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LIFE 






CARDINAL DE CHEVERUS, 



ARCHBISHOP OF BORDEAUX. 



BY 



THE REV. J. HUEN DOTTBOURG, 
7 



-PROFESSOR OF 












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i\0JuJL •] 


•J 
4 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, 

BY ROBERT M. WALSH. Ik. 



PUBLISHED BY EUGENE CUMMISKEY, 
No. 130 South Sixth Street. 

1841. 






<f> 



TO THE REV. J. J. CHANCHE, 



PRESIDENT OP ST. MARY S COLLEGE, 



BALTIMORE, 



THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY" INSCRIBED, 



BY HIS AFFECTIONATE PUPIL AND FRIEND. 



CONTENTS. 



BOOK L 

Page 

From the birth of the Cardinal, in 1768, to his depar- 
ture from France in 1792, - - 13 

BOOK II. 

Life of Cardinal de Cheverus out of France, - - 36 

BOOK III. 
From the return of M. de Cheverus to France in 1823, 

to the Revolution of July 1830, - - - 124 

BOOK IV. 

Life of Cardinal de Cheverus from the Revolution of July 

1830, to his last illness, - - - - 181 

BOOK V. 

Character and death of the Cardinal, - 220 

Memorials of Cardinal Cheverus, - - - 267 



PREFACE. 

In presenting this volume to the public, the translator would 
flatter himself with the belief that he is conferring" upon them 
no inconsiderable benefit. " What is the most useful study ]" 
was the question once asked of a sage — " The life of a good 
man," he replied: — "What is the next]" — The life of a bad 
man." This is the life of a good man in the purest and loftiest 
sense of the word — in whom the sterner and nobler qualities 
which dignify our nature, were blended in the most exquisite 
harmony with the gentler virtues, as you may have seen the 
glow of setting day commingling with the delicate light of the 
newly risen moon, giving and taking beauty — the one deep- 
ened and strengthened, the other softened and refined in its 
hue. To " see how a Christian can die," is indeed a beautiful 
spectacle, and an admirable lesson ; but the spectacle presented 
by this book, the lesson inculcated on its every page, are of 
still greater beauty and moment. " See how a Christian should 
live," is its sublime sermon. The Christian death may be ex- 
hibited by one whose life has been a scandal and a reproach. 
The thief on the cross breathed his spirit into paradise ; but it 
was the immaculate life of the Man-God expiring near him, that 
taught the path which leads to eternal bliss. It is in presenting 
religion with such an aspect as she wears in the character and 
career of a Cheverus, that her attractiveness and real influence 
are perceived. 

In a man whose views were bounded by the horizon of this 
world, whose deeds were all performed to win honours and ap- 
plause from his fellow worms, the high qualities displayed by 
M. de Cheverus in his unobtrusive career, would have com- 
manded the epithet of great; for where shall we find the war- 
rior who exerted more vigour, and courage, and fortitude, than 
he possessed; the statesman who evinced more power of self- 
controul, more skill in gaining the affections of others, and 
directing their actions, and even their thoughts] But it is the 
poor slave, who, for the gratification of the passions by which he 
is swayed, obtains a certain mastery over his fellows, and not 
the being who has the grandeur of soul to employ equal or supe- 
rior faculties for the loftiest and most durable ends, despising all 



X PREFACE. 

" the feculence and froth of things terrestrial/ ' whom the world 
salutes with the title of great. Thus, while a Richelieu or a 
Cromwell will go down the stream of time in a gilded, flaunt- 
ing bark, the little vessel which carries the reputation of a 
Cheverus, will be scarce an object of notice save to the few who 
can " see into the life of things." No one, however, can read 
this volume without being convinced that although the memory 
of those the world calls great may be the most emblazoned, there 
is something in the actual presence of virtue, which exerts a 
more powerful influence upon those within its sphere than any 
supremacy which is of the earth, earthy. Peruse the account 
of the departure of M. de Cheverus from Boston — of his recep- 
tion in France, and say whether the history of any " hero," can 
furnish a parallel to either. Louder huzzas, more thunders of 
artillery may have welcomed the successful warrior, but what 
mere victor was ever detained for hours on the steps of his 
triumphal car, while multitudes were thronging around him to 
snatch a kiss of heart-felt love and veneration from his hands'? 
There is a pathos and sublimity combined in some of the scenes 
recorded in the following pages, which must cause every sensi* 
tive breast to swell with emotions, such as few other biogra* 
phies are fitted to excite. 

It is delightful to contemplate an exception like that afforded 
by the career of M. de Cheverus, to the truth wrung from the 
lips of bitter experience, and confirmed by universal assent, that 
" slow rises worth by poverty depress'd ;" that virtue, to com- 
mand the homage of the world, must be plated with gold, or 
emblazoned by the lustre of rank. It inspires the cheering con- 
viction that there is still a redeeming power in human nature, 
which must sooner or later obtain the predominance, and ren- 
der honesty not only the best policy in its ultimate results, but 
the sole means of securing the admiration of men. Compare 
the manner in which the Cardinal Archbishop of Bordeaux was 
elevated from the humblest station in the priesthood, by the 
mere force of worth, to the loftiest dignities and influence, with 
the career, for instance, of a Cardinal de Retz. What a life, 
in the one case, of tumultuous effort, of mind and body wasting 
toil, to earn but disappointment, ignominy, and an unhonoured 
grave! In the other, how easy, constant the ascent, impeded 
only by the unwillingness of the individual to rise ! How serene 
and beautiful its termination at the highest point ! How glori- 



PREFACE. XI 

ous the mausoleum erected on the pinnacle, from which the 
stainless spirit was exhaled to heaven ! Never, indeed, could it 
have heen said of any one more truly, that "goodness and he 
fill up one moment ;" that " orphans' tears have wept a tomb 
upon him !" It is after contemplating such an exemplar, that we 
can appreciate the full force of Milton's exquisite homily — 

Love Virtue, she alone is free ; 
She can teach ye how to climb 
Higher than the sphery chime : 
Or, if Virtue feeble were, 
Heav'n itself would stoop to her. 

There is only one portion of this most beautiful "drama of 
life," at which a feeling of regret may perhaps be awakened — 
the catastrophe. It might be wished that this had not been so 
sudden — that a death-bed scene, in harmony with the existence 
which it terminated, had been granted to the eye of pious vene- 
ration and love — that the setting of the sun had not been so 
instantaneous, but accompanied by all the mellow effulgence 
which loves to linger about his couch at the close of an unsul- 
lied day. The last words and thoughts of such a man when he 
beheld himself on the confines of eternity, would have been a 
treasure of great price; — and what felicity, triumphing over all 
bodily pain, would then have been his as he cast his eyes back 
upon a life filled with endeavours to give glory to God on high 
and peace on earth to men ! How inspiringly would the retro- 
spect have enkindled that celestial light which illumes " the 
dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb," — how truly then would 
his mind have been a " mansion for all lovely forms, his memory 
a dwelling-place for all sweet sounds and harmonies." But 
whatever might have been the manner of his death, well may 
we all, whether Catholic or Protestant, make it our daily 
prayer, that we may be prepared as he was, to meet our fate — 
that our last moments may be like unto his. 

The writer of the biography states that he had the most am- 
ple and authentic materials for its preparation. " From every 
mouth," he says, " at Mayenne, I learnt all that appertained to 
the early youth of M. de Cheverus; and concerning the rest of 
his life, I was furnished with the most precious and abundant 
details from Bordeaux, besides being supplied with various let- 
ters and public prints both of that city and of Montauban and 
Boston, and having all the papers of his Eminence placed in my 



XU PREFACE. 

hands." It was the wish of the translator to increase the 
value of the work by copious additions relating to the sojourn 
of the sainted Bishop in this country, particularly such as were 
fitted to show forth 

" That best portion of a good man's life, 
His little, nameless, unremember'd acts 
Of kindness and of love," 

but he was disappointed in his efforts to obtain them. He has 
thought it well, however, to append various documents and 
extracts from journals which seemed calculated to interest the 
reader, and confirm the narrative. It has been his endeavour 
also to modify somewhat the style of the original, which is too 
much that of an unqualified panegyric, although it would be 
difficult to write about such a being as M. de Cheverus without 
a constant glow of enthusiasm ; and he has taken the liberty at 
times of making curtailments where redundancy and repetition 
were indulged in to excess. " Perhaps some readers, says the 
author, " may find the style too strongly tinged with a religious 
hue, not in harmony with their usual studies ; but I pray them 
to consider that every subject has a style appropriate to it. It 
is one thing to write the life of a warrior or a statesman, and 
another to write the life of a Bishop. The latter demands a 
style essentially grave and religious. The biographer must 
exhibit in the Prelate the man of God and of religion, preparing 
himself by study and piety, for the most sublime of ministries ; 
doing, when he has attained to it, all the good in his power, 
under the inspiration of faith, and charity, and zeal ; prosecuting, 
with a holy fervor, labours which may appear little to the eyes 
of the world, but which are great, noble, and celestial in those 
of religion ; otherwise, the biographer would be faithless to his 
character, placing the glory of a Bishop there where it does not 
exist, and preventing his merits from being seen where they are 
really to be found. To accomplish his task, he must invest his 
language with a colour that is completely ecclesiastical ; reli- 
gion herself must hold the pen, and trace the history of her hero." 
It only remains for the translator to tender his best thanks to 
the Right Rev. Dr. Fenwick, Catholic Bishop of Boston, the 
Rev. Dr. Harris, and William Sullivan, Esq., of that city, for 
their kindness in furnishing him with the various articles which 
compose the additions. 



LIFE 

OF THE 

CARDINAL DE CHEVERUS, 

ARCHBISHOP OF BORDEAUX. 

BOOK I. 

FROM THE BIRTH OF THE CARDINAL IN 1768, TO HIS 

departure from france in 1792. 

John, Louis, Anne, Magdalen, Lefebvre de 
Cheverus was born at Mayenne, the capital of the 
ancient province of Lower Maine, on the 28th of 
January, 1768. His family was one possessing uni- 
versal esteem and confidence, and for a long period 
had enjoyed the honours of the magistracy. At the 
time of his birth it consisted of three brothers, who 
united in themselves all the powers of the city of 
Mayenne. One, Louis Rene de Cheverus, wielded 
the spiritual authority as curate of the principal 
parish; another, M. de Champorain, the civil autho- 
rity as mayor; and the third, John Vincent Marie 
J^efebvre de Cheverus, father of the cardinal, the judi- 
cial power, under the title of judge general and 
lieutenant of police of the city and dutchy of 
Mayenne. The mother of the cardinal, Anne Le- 
marchand des Noyers, was one of those rare women 
who thoroughly understood the education of children. 
She had no confidence in the employment of a parti- 
cular system; the best, in her opinion, being the sim- 

2 



14 LI FE O F 

plest and most Christian. Sedulous in inspiring her 
offspring by example as well as by precept with the 
fear of God, the habit of prayer, the love of their 
neighbours, the practice of charity, and the admira- 
tion of all that is good, and generous, and virtuous, 
she equally well knew how to make herself feared 
and beloved. She never indulged in those severe 
reprimands which sour the disposition instead of cor- 
recting it; still less in those corporeal chastisements 
which compel outward obedience without changing 
the heart. What was well worthy of a Christian 
mother, she had taught her children to dread as the 
greatest of punishments, an exclusion from the family 
prayers, which, according to the patriarchal custom, 
were said every evening — the culprit being con- 
demned to pray alone, as unworthy of uniting in the 
prayer of the family; and this fear preserved them 
all in the path of duty. M. de Cheverus, the father, 
joined his paternal care to the solicitude of his vir- 
tuous spouse, and like her, contributed by word and 
deed to the right education of their children. 

So much affection was not thrown away. With- 
out speaking of the admirable and eminent virtues 
which were its fruit,* the gratitude and love of their 
offspring were a delightful recompense to the pa- 
rents. The remembrance of so good a mother in 
particular, remained fresh in the hearts of her excel- 
lent children as that of virtue itself. To the latest 
years of his life the cardinal spoke of her with vene- 
ration and tenderness; and when from the pulpit he 

* Two sisters of the cardinal, Madame George and Madame Le 
Jarriel, who died before him, left memories that will be long precious 
in the sight of men, and will be ever so in that of God, from the per- 
fect holiness of their lives. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. , 15 

explained the duties of mothers towards their chil- 
dren, it was the example and the conduct of his own 
mother that he loved to cite. Whenever pronoun- 
cing the panegyric of St. Louis, he related the exem- 
plary education which Queen Blanche gave to her 
son, and repeated those beautiful words she was 
in the habit of saying to him, " My son, God is my 
witness how much I love you; but rather would I 
see you dead before me than that you should com- 
mit a single mortal sin:" — he would bless heaven 
for having bestowed upon him a similar mother; his 
filial heart would overflow with tenderness and gra- 
titude, and one was involuntarily prompted to ex- 
claim, Happy the mother, whose name is so cherish- 
ed by such a son! Well, also, might one have cried, 
Happy the son, whose first steps in life were directed 
by such a mother ! 

Attentive to his lessons, the young de Cheverus ex- 
hibited from his earliest years that sweetness of tem- 
per and amenity of character by which he was sub- 
sequently distinguished. At the same period he was 
remarked for that abstinence from all frivolity, that 
love of study, that devotion to his duties, that pene- 
tration of mind and all those happy qualities which 
seemed to presage what he was to become in the 
church. His mother, who knew that the innocence 
of a child is like a tender flower, which too soon 
transplanted into a strange soil withers and dies, 
wished to keep him under her own eyes during his 
primary studies, and in consequence, it was decided 
that he should remain under the paternal roof, and 
go every day to the college of the city for instruc- 
tion in the elements of knowledge. The young stu- 
dent devoted himself with ardor to his books, and this 



16 LIFE OF 

application, joined to his natural quickness, obtained 
for him from the outset the most brilliant success. 
Amongst his companions, he encountered but one 
rival, the young De Chapedelaine, who often disputed 
the first place with him, and was oftener vanquished, 
because, though equally gifted, he was less industri- 
ous. This superiority did not render him vain. Mo- 
dest and unpretending, he was the friend of all, as 
well as an excellent companion, fond of playing with 
every one and at every thing. On beholding him 
during the moments of recreation, one would have 
taken him for the merriest lad at school, in the same 
way as in the hour of study he would have been 
considered the most assiduous. 

At the age of eleven he was judged worthy to 
make his first communion, for which his parents had 
long been preparing him, impressing it upon his mind 
as the height of happiness, the end of all his efforts, 
the most powerful motive of doing all things well. 
Accordingly, the reception of the sacrament produced 
the deepest impression upon his soul. Influenced by 
the love of God, he rerjounced all the hopes of the 
world; all his inclinations were directed towards a 
life of charity and of prayer; all his desire was for 
the ecclesiastical state. He opened his heart to his 
mother, from whom he concealed nothing, and she 
joyfully encouraged his holy dispositions. The fol- 
lowing year, he received the tonsure at Mayenne, 
in the Church of Calvary, from the hands of Mon- 
seigneur de Herce, Bishop of Dol, together with the 
friend of his childhood and the rival of his studies, 
young De Chapedelaine, who promised to be one 
day an honor and a glory to the priesthood, but 
whom death a few years afterwards snatched from 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 17 

the church, whilst he was finishing his theological 
studies' in the Seminary of Saint Sulpice at Paris. 

The new ecclesiastic did honor to the habit with 
which he had been invested. Old inhabitants of 
Mayenne still remember with what devotion he 
assisted at the offices of the church, with what pro- 
priety and exactness he went through all the cere- 
monies confided to him. His piety, far from injuring 
his studies, only accelerated their progress, by inspir- 
ing his soul with greater ardor to do well, and giving 
his mind more consistency and strength for seizing 
and mastering the mysteries of knowledge. Mon- 
seigneur de Gonsans, Bishop of Mans, having visited 
Mayenne about this time, the young Abbe was pre- 
sented to him by his father. The Bishop examined 
him with care and interest, and was so delighted with 
his piety, amiability, frankness, and talents, that he 
offered his father for him one of the scholarships of 
the college of Louis le Grand at Paris, of which the 
diocese of Mans had the disposal. M. de Cheverus, 
who was anxious that his son should pursue studies 
of a severer character than those of the College at 
Mayenne, and more adapted to his distinguished 
faculties, accepted the offer with gratitude, and pro- 
mised to send him to Paris at the opening of the next 
session. 

A short time afterwards Mayenne was visited by 
the famous advocate Gerbier, a member of the Coun- 
cil of Monsieur, subsequently Louis XVIII., who, 
struck with the character of the young Abbe, and 
eager to please a family so respectable and so worthy 
of the favor of its princes, promised M. de Cheverus 
to obtain for his son one of the benefices in the nomi- 
nation of his royal highness. He kept his word, and 



18 LIFE OF 

the young Abbe was named by the Prince Prior of 
Torbechet, with the title of his almoner extraordi- 
nary. This priory, situated at some leagues from 
Mayenne, was of small importance, and not worth 
more than 800 livres of revenue ; nevertheless it gave 
rise to a suit which was protracted for several years. 
The Abbe, then, as always, a friend of peace, and op- 
posed to every species of contention, suffered much 
from this difference, and wished to arrange it in 
any way; but his lawyer feeling confident of suc- 
cess, warmly resisted all idea of a compromise, 
and triumphed beforehand in the honor of victory. 
Wearied, however, with the delay, the young Prior 
deprived him of that pleasure, by a voluntary sacri- 
fice of his rights at the moment almost when the 
affair seemed on the point of termination. To an 
inquiry why he had not prosecuted a cause which he 
was so sure of gaining, he made this beautiful an- 
swer — " Because, in winning it, I should have ruined 
the adverse party. " This reply was far from satis- 
fying his lawyer, who was so much incensed at his 
proceeding that he scarcely forgot it after the lapse 
of forty years. The Cardinal used to relate with 
great glee the fresh reproaches which the old advo- 
cate bestowed upon him at his return from America 
to his native land. 

However insignificant was the priory of Torbechet, 
it was sufficient for the moderation of the Abbe's 
desires, as well as for his support during the whole 
period of his studies; and he was ever faithful in the 
performance of the particular obligation attached to 
it, which consisted in reciting every day the office 
of the Blessed Virgin — a duty that he regarded 
as a sort of preparation for the grand ministry of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 19 

public prayer, with which he was one day to be 
entrusted. 

He finished his studies in the month of August, 
1781, and as usual carried off a number of prizes. 
After some weeks of repose and recreation, his father 
set out with him for Paris to place him at the College 
of Louis le Grand, a theatre more worthy of his 
talents. They passed through Mans, where he was 
again presented to its bishop, who saw him with 
renewed pleasure, conceived a still stronger interest 
for him and still more gratifying hopes for the church, 
repeated the promise he had made him many months 
before of a scholarship, and added that of going to see 
him at the college whenever his affairs called him to 
Paris. On reaching that city, one of the first steps 
of M. de Cheverus was to thank the advocate Ger- 
bier, who had procured for his son the priory of 
Torbechet; and who now presented the Abbe to 
Monsieur as his almoner extraordinary. This dig- 
nity in the person of a child of thirteen years, who 
from his size did not appear more than ten, seemed 
to amuse the prince a good deal; but the lively and 
intelligent looks of the boy, joined to his frankness 
and sweetness of manner, pleased him more, and he 
dismissed him with various testimonials of interest. 

Having entered the College of Louis le Grand, the 
Abbe de Cheverus was from the outset subjected to 
the most difficult trial that can be encountered by a 
young man who for the first time has left the pater- 
nal mansion. This college, once the school of so 
many virtues and the resort of so much talent, was 
no longer what it had been. Its directors, imbued 
with all the new ideas which were a few years after- 
wards to heap upon France such a load of crime. 



20 life or 

and misery, and ruin, wished to make the youthful 
collegians participate in that wide liberty of thought, 
of speech, and of action which was every where 
rife; and in consequence they suppressed the rule of 
silence, and cut off many exercises of piety as use- 
less in the education of men of the world, however 
good for the formation of monks. These innova- 
tions were not long in producing their fruits, and 
the reformers were thus speedily enabled to enjoy 
the result of their works. Without the restraint of 
silence, the students soon became heedless and idle; 
from inattention they easily passed to more seri- 
ous irregularities, and the exercises of piety no longer 
recurring at stated moments of the day to call back 
the wandering heart to duty, the college ceased to be 
that well ordered institution which had furnished so 
many good citizens to the state, and so many good 
Christians to the church. 

In this delicate position young de Cheverus suc- 
ceeded in guarding against the contagion of example, 
and remaining what he had always been before, and 
what he always continued to be — pious, modest, re- 
gular, studious — zealous, in a word, in the perform- 
ance of all his duties. He approached the com- 
munion table every week, was ever devout in his 
prayers, and preserved in all religious exercises a de- 
portment at once modest without constraint, and seri- 
ous without affectation, which was strongly con- 
trasted with the levity and distraction of his com- 
panions; but this conduct was accompanied with so 
much amenity and kindness towards them, with such 
distinguished talent and success, that he extorted the 
esteem, the friendship, the admiration of all. As 
amiable and indulgent towards others as he was 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 21 

severe to himself, he won all hearts, and made every 
one his friend. His innocence and candor were espe- 
cially striking. The purity of his morals were such 
that he had scarcely a suspicion of evil, and could 
not comprehend the cause of the strict watch which 
was practised in the dormitories during the night. 

Nevertheless this virtuous young man felt that in 
the new position in which he was placed, he had 
need of a safe and enlightened guide to whom he 
could unreservedly open his heart, and from whom 
he might receive the lessons which would supply his 
want of experience, the counsels which would sus- 
tain his weakness, the encouragements which would 
enliven his zeal. Accordingly he made choice of the 
Abbe Auge, (still director of the Stanislaus College 
at Paris,) in whose wisdom, example, and affectionate 
piety, he found all that he sought. To the benefits 
of a sage director he resolved to join the assistance 
of a virtuous friend, by whose course and example 
he might be upheld in the slippery path in which he 
was to walk, and he turned his eyes upon a young 
student whom every one already admired and loved, 
the Abbe Legris Duval, whose name recals so much 
sweetness and devotion, and who was, subsequently, 
during a long series of years, in the heart of the ca- 
pital, the very soul as it were, of every good work. 
At the first interview these two excellent persons un- 
derstood, esteemed, and loved one another.* Two 

* In 1824, M. de Cheverus when preaching at Paris, in behalf 
of the missions of France, in the institution of which the Abbe 
Legris-Duval was one of the founders, thus alluded to his an- 
cient relations with his excellent friend : " He honoured me with 
all his friendship, and deigned in his youth to associate me with him 
in his labours of zeal and of piety. Sainted friend, could I be your 



22 L I F E OF 

natures so similar were soon linked in the strongest 
bonds of a friendship, which, however, had nothing 
exclusive in its character, founded as it was, upon 
virtue, or rather formed by virtue itself. Whilst 
loving one another for their mutual encouragement, 
they endeavoured to secure the regard of their fel- 
low students; and as if to prove to them how amia- 
ble is true virtue, how ingenious in causing the hap- 
piness of all around her, they engaged in all their 
games and modes of amusement, and were often even 
the soul of them;* so that there was no one in the col- 
lege who was not attached to them, and with a 
friendship so strong and so genuine, that every occa- 
sion of giving proofs of it was always, after the lapse 
even of many years, seized upon with eagerness. 
When in 1793, at the height of the revolutionary 
tempest, the Abbe Legris Duval asked of the san- 
guinary judges of all that was good and virtuous, 
permission to offer his ministry to Louis XVI., at the 
time under sentence of death, he was enabled to 
escape the consequences of his temerity, which would 
have been fatal to another, because the judges were 
old pupils of Louis le Grand, and could not divest 
themselves of the attachment and veneration which 

echo at this moment, all hearts would be touched, and your work 
would be perpetuated." 

* Cardinal de Cheverus was fond of relating, even in the last years 
of his life, how he had contributed with his friend to the amusements 
of the college. Amongst other anecdotes he used to tell the follow- 
ing :— Upon Ash-Wednesday of one year, the Abbe Legris pronoun- 
ced a funeral discourse upon the carnival, taking for his text the line 
of Horace, " Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit: He is dead, and lament- 
ed by many good men." A wag turning towards one of his comrades 
who was renowned for his appetite, immediately added the continua- 
tion of the passage : " Nulli Jlebilior quam tibi: By none more 
lamented than by thee." 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 23 

his virtues had inspired; and when in 1823, M. de 
Cheverus returned to France, he was welcomed with 
transport by his old college companions, who pressed 
around him to testify their affection, so deep was the 
feeling he had engraven upon their hearts. 

Attractive as the Abbe de Cheverus rendered vir- 
tue by his amiable deportment, he did equal honour 
to her by the talents of which each of his classes, so 
to speak, revealed the evidence. Gifted with a pro- 
digious memory, he was always perfect in his lessons, 
forgetting nothing that he had learnt. An acuteness 
of intellect not less remarkable enabled him to seize 
the point of a difficulty, unravel the true sense of an 
obscure passage, and find the right thought and the 
proper word to express it; whilst an exquisite deli- 
cacy of taste taught him to appreciate literary beau- 
ties, to transfer them when required to his own 
compositions, and fix them permanently in his re- 
collection. These qualities, seconded by unflagging 
application, secured for him the highest places in his 
classes, and at the end of each year the most honora- 
ble rewards. The Principal of the College deemed 
himself happy in having such a pupil, openly declared 
that he was the best scholar in the establishment, and 
thought no one worthy of comparison with him ex- 
cept the Abbe Legris Duval, who was perhaps his 
equal in talent as well as in virtue. This was the 
testimony he uniformly rendered to all who spoke to 
him concerning the Abbe de Cheverus, and particu- 
larly to the Bishop of Mans, when, faithful to his 
promise, that dignitary came to see the young colle- 
gian. Delighted with this eulogium, the good Bishop 
carried it to Mans, and expressed to those about him, 
of whom several are still living, his gratification and 



24 LIFE OF 

his hopes. "My little Abbe de Cheverus," he was 
wont to say, " will one day be the first subject of my 
diocese." 

Thus passed all the period of study which the Abbe 
spent at the College of Louis le Grand — unvaried in 
virtue and literary success, except that every year 
he seemed to give increased satisfaction to his mas- 
ters. Having reached the class of philosophy, he dis- 
tinguished himself in it no less than in belles lettres, 
and exhibited a solidity of judgment equal to the 
graces of his intellect. When the Professor was pre- 
vented by other occupations or by sickness from giv- 
ing his lessons, it was young de Cheverus who sup- 
plied his place, and acquitted himself so well that the 
pupil seemed little inferior to the master. 

At that time a custom prevailed by which all the 
licentiates in theology who wished to obtain the 
grade of doctor, were obliged to bring forward a 
young man whom they were understood to have in- 
structed, and cause him to sustain a public thesis 
upon a given subject, in order to prove by the an- 
swers of the scholar the learning and merit of the 
teacher. Although this usage, which in former days 
had certainly a useful end, was then supported by a 
mere fiction, as it was notorious that no candidate 
had formed the pupil whom he presented, the Uni- 
versity was not the less tenacious of it, and compel- 
led every aspirant to the doctorate to comply with its 
requisitions. M. Auge having become a candidate, 
requested the Abbe de Cheverus to sustain the cus- 
tomary thesis. His feelings of gratitude to that gen- 
tleman did not permit him to hesitate an instant, and 
on the 21st of July, 1786, after due preparation, he 
appeared in public, sustained his thesis, developed 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 25 

his proofs, and answered objections with wonderful 
facility of elocution and justness of thought, so that 
the task which had given so much pleasure to his 
heart, did still more honor to his talents. 

But the love of human glory was not what in- 
spired him; his thoughts were set on higher objects. 
Intent upon his vocation and the means of fulfilling 
it, he deemed it better to enter a theological seminary 
than to remain at college — thinking that in the former 
a severer discipline, exercises of piety more frequent 
and more consonant to his views, and a life of 
greater seriousness and study, would better fit him 
for the holy state to which he aspired. Whilst occu- 
pied with these thoughts he learnt that an exami- 
nation was to be held for the vacant places in the 
seminary of Saint Magloire at Paris. He offered 
himself as a candidate, and obtained at once the 
first place. It was a happy day for him, that of 
his admission into that establishment. He entered 
into it as into a sanctuary, where he was to~ pre- 
pare himself for the reception of the sacerdotal 
spirit; carrying with him a still stronger love of 
duty, a still more lively desire of perfection. He 
was already known in the seminary by reputation 
before his arrival; but when so much merit was 
found allied with so much simplicity and goodness, 
all, masters and pupils, were agreeably surprised, 
and conceived for him an esteem, an affection, a 
tenderness even, it might be said, of which he alone 
did not then suspect, and never afterwards perhaps 
suspected, the real cause. His unaffected modesty, 
hiding from him his own merits, made him attribute 
all the marks of predilection which he received to 
the kindness of the good Fathers of the Oratory, who 

3 



26 LIFE OF 

directed the establishment, and to the amiability of 
the students who were its inmates. Accordingly 
during his whole life he always spoke of them with 
affection and gratitude, praised and exalted them on 
every occasion, and loved to mention their kindness 
to him, and the happiness he had enjoyed among 
them. " Fortunate years of my seminary existence," 
he was wont to exclaim, " the happiest of my life ! 
when my duties were so easy, my days so serene, 
my soul so tranquil, and every one so good, so indul- 
gent towards me!" In this delightful asylum he 
devoted himself exclusively to ecclesiastical studies. 
Among his companions was the son of the illus- 
trious Lord Maccarthy — who, driven from Ireland 
by religious persecution, had taken refuge in France, 
where he had collected, at great expense, one of 
the most curious libraries in the world — the cele- 
brated Abbe de Maccarthy, afterwards the most 
distinguished preacher of his time, who died a few 
years ago. This young man became intimately at- 
tached to the Abbe de Cheverus, and often begged 
permission to teach him the English language, of 
which he was fond of explaining to him the merit 
and the beauties. But this the other invariably re- 
fused, alleging that the good of the church and not 
a vain gratification of curiosity should be the aim of 
all his labors; that the language in question would 
be of no use to him in the ecclesiastical state; and 
that his time would be better employed in learning 
the sciences which had a direct and immediate rela- 
tion to his duties. 

He dedicated himself consequently to sacred stu- 
dies alone. The Holy Scriptures now became the 
chief nourishment of his soul, constituting his delight, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERTJS. 27 

his most delicious recreation. He was never tired 
of admiring their sublime and touching beauties, and 
often watered the pages with his tears. From the 
Bible he passed to ecclesiastical history, following in 
the pages of Fleury the progress of religion, the wan- 
derings of heresy, the virtues of the saints, and the 
developement of discipline. He preserved the know- 
ledge which he possessed of Greek, by perusing every 
day the fathers of the church who wrote in that lan- 
guage, and soon added to it an acquaintance with 
Hebrew, in order to read the Scriptures in the pure 
sources of their original idiom ; but what chiefly oc- 
cupied him was the study of theology, comprehend- 
ing, as he did, its supreme importance both for 
initiation into all other ecclesiastical sciences, of which 
it is the key, and for preaching, proving and defend- 
ing the truths of religion. 

At that period all the seminaries were obliged to 
send their pupils to the Sorbonne, to attend the 
lectures there given ; it being, however, understood 
that it was not there that theology was to be learnt; 
that the particular instructions afforded in each semi- 
nary were quite sufficient for its acquisition; even 
the best of the students made no scruple of talk- 
ing and making a noise during the time of class, 
looking upon the exercise as a mere form, or rather 
as a period of recreation. The professor spoke and 
no one listened; dictated his lessons, and was often 
inaudible amidst the disorder occasioned by the mul- 
titude of pupils collected from the different estab- 
lishments. But the Abbe de Cheverus would not 
permit himself to imitate the example of the great 
majority. He endeavoured to learn all that he could 
in this tumultuous assembly, and to give some satis- 



28 LI FE O F 

faction to his masters, who derived so little from the 
rest of their pupils ; keeping near them for the bet- 
ter hearing of what they said, doing whatever was 
agreeable to them, and composing upon the va- 
rious subjects which they gave him to treat, disser- 
tations full of interest and ability. When he was in- 
vited to any discussion either at the Sorbonne or at 
any of the seminaries, he always acquitted himself 
with a grace and facility of elocution which delighted 
every one present. The remembrance of his success 
is still preserved by his old fellow students. To give 
greater elegance and purity to his style, he made him- 
self thoroughly master of that of the theologian whose 
latinity is most admirable, Melchior Canus in his 
treatise de locis theologicis. He even improved upon 
it, as in addition, he rendered himself so familiar with 
the philosophical works of Cicero that he was wont 
to strew his discourses with all the beauties of the 
Roman orator, and draw from his writings the most 
felicitous applications, and terms the most analogous 
to the genius of the Latin language. At a subse- 
quent period he was often heard to reproach himself 
for having employed upon this perfection of style so 
much time, which he thought might have been devo- 
ted to more useful attainments. 

Thus did M. de Cheverus pursue his theological 
course, to the satisfaction and edification of his mas- 
ters. About this time, M. Emery, the superior gene- 
ral of St. Sulpice, having had occasion to make his 
acquaintance, soon discerned and appreciated his re- 
markable merit, and offered him a gratuitous place 
in his seminary; but M. de Cheverus was too much 
attached to the directors of St. Magloire to leave 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 29 

them. Gratitude prevented him from accepting the 
honourable offer. 

He had began the second year of his course, and 
was already raised to the deaconship, in the month 
of October/ 1790, when the bishop of Mans, fore- 
seeing the storm which was about to burst upon the 
church, and perhaps disperse its bishops so as to ren- 
der ordinations impossible, or at least very difficult, 
and knowing moreover how useful a priest of the 
merit of M. de Cheverus might be in such critical 
times, obtained from Rome, without his knowledge, 
a dispensation for his want of age, which he sent to 
him with the expression of a wish that he would re- 
ceive the priesthood at the next ordination. Consi- 
derable courage was requisite for the acceptance of 
such a proposal at an epoch so menacing and dan- 
gerous. The property of the clergy had been in- 
vaded, the civil constitution decreed, and the oath 
prescribed for all in holy orders under pain of for- 
feiture; consequently nothing was to be expected in 
becoming a priest, but poverty, persecution, and 
death. M. de Cheverus, however, did not hesitate a 
moment, and although he was only in his twenty- 
third year, he was ordained on the 18th of Decem- 
ber, 1790, at the last public ordination which took 
place in Paris before the revolution. He immediately 
set out for Mayenne, where he celebrated his first 
mass during the night of Christmas, and again offici- 
ated at the solemn mass of the day. 

On his arrival at his native place his venerable 
uncle, M. Lefebre de Cheverus, curate of Mayenne, 
then infirm and paralytic, wrote to the bishop of 
Mans a letter, in which he begged him to leave his 
nephew with him as his assistant in the administra- 

3* 



30 LIFE OF 

tion of the parish, under the title of vicar. The 
bishop could not refuse the old gentleman, who in 
consequence of his age and weakness, had really 
need of such aid; but at the same time wishing to 
show that he deemed the Abbe de Cheverus worthy 
of a more elevated post even in the outset of his 
career, he named him canon of his cathedral — a dig- 
nity which did not prevent him from rendering his 
uncle the services which the good curate expected 
from him, as the chapter having been dissolved by 
the decree of the national assembly, had no longer 
any functions to fulfil, or any obligatory place of 
residence. 

The Abbe de Cheverus now commenced his minis- 
try at Mayenne, and young as he was, displayed all 
the zeal, the prudence, the firmness of an ancient 
servant of the altar; the soundness of his judgment 
supplying the want of experience. Punctual in all 
his duties, he never permitted himself to be waited 
for; he catechised children with an interest which 
attracted even persons of more advanced years in 
crowds; he instructed all with a clearness, a force, 
ah unction, that carried universal conviction, and 
remembrance is still preserved of the solicitude with 
which he listened to his numerous penitents, visited 
the sick, comforted the poor, and consoled the 
afflicted. 

But the times were every day becoming more 
stormy and dangerous. He was called upon to take 
the oath to the constitution, and refusing with noble 
firmness, as did also his old uncle and his associates, 
he was ordered to resign his place to the juring 
curate who came to take possession of it. He obey- 
ed in silence, and continued to exercise his ministry 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 31 

without suffering his ardor to be diminished by 
the nature of the circumstances in which he was 
placed. He catechised, preached, confessed as usual, 
and even consecrated altar-stones, in order to be 
able, in case of need, to offer up the holy sacri- 
fice in private houses, by virtue of a special power 
delegated to him from the bishop of Mans, whom 
the supreme pontiff had authorised to that effect. 
On the 15th of August, 1791, the municipal power 
again insisted upon his taking the oath, and upon 
his second refusal, interdicted him, as well as his 
brethren, from exercising any ministerial function 
in the church except the celebration of mass. He 
again obeyed, and continued in the midst of all this 
confusion and difficulty, and alarm, to exercise his 
functions in private. A room in his father's house 
was converted into a chapel, in which he celebrated 
the holy mysteries and administered the sacraments. 
Things went on in this way until the beginning of 
January, 1792, when his excellent uncle, whom he 
revered as a father, died. As soon as this event was 
known to the bishop of Mans, who was then in at- 
tendance at the meeting of the states-general, he 
wrote to the Abbe Decolle, his secretary, directing 
him to send to M. de Cheverus without delay his ap- 
pointment to the curacy of Mayenne, and at the same 
time conferred upon him the powers of vicar-general. 
Already was he in possession of all the influence of 
the station. He had been consulted in regard to the 
oath by numbers of the priesthood, who looked upon 
him as an oracle, notwithstanding his youth, and 
the confidence thus placed in him he had made 
use of in fortifying some, encouraging others, en- 
lightening and directing all. The news of his pro- 



32 LI FE O F 

motion was therefore highly disagreeable to the revo- 
lutionists, who presumed Jhat if by the ascendency 
of his merit alone, he thus wielded an influence over 
his brethren and parishioners as powerful as it was 
hostile to their views, he would impede still more, 
once invested with the title of curate, the course of 
the revolution and the success of the constitutional 
church. They resolved, in consequence, to get rid 
of him; and not being able to employ open violence 
without exciting the whole population of the town, 
who felt for him the most respectful attachment, and 
hopeless of making him abandon his post by discom- 
forts and annoyances, beneath which his zeal would 
never succumb, they decided on trying the plan of 
menaces and secret persecution. Three days after 
the reception of his appointment, one of them went 
to him, and with an air of all possible kindness and 
respect, informed him that by a decree of the revo- 
lutionary club, his father's house would be burnt on 
the following night if he did not leave the town that 
very day, and that this proceeding would be only the 
prelude to other and still greater misfortunes. 

Thinking that both prudence and filial piety no 
longer permitted him to remain, he quitted Mayenne 
that evening in company with his friend, the Abbe 
Souge, who afterwards died curate of the place. 
They passed the night in a country seat at the dis- 
tance of three leagues, and the next day proceeded 
to Laval, whither all the recusant priests of the de- 
partment had been commanded to repair for the pur- 
pose of being kept there in a state of surveillance. 
M. de Cheverus was allowed to reside with some 
relatives whom he had in Laval, and was only 
obliged to present himself every day before the autho- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 33 

rities, who, by a rigorous scrutiny, took care that no 
priest should make his escape. He lived thus for 
two months and a half, groaning over the afflictions 
of the church. Amongst those in the same situation 
as himself was M. de Herce, Bishop of Dal, who had 
been forced to fly from his diocese, and fix his resi- 
dence in the capital of the department. He was a 
native of Mayenne, and with him M. de Cheverus 
cultivated an occasional intercourse. In the month 
of June of the same year (1792) both were shut up in 
the ancient convent of the Cordeliers, together with 
all the priests who were living at Laval. Thinking 
now that his life was in continual peril, and that at 
any moment the savages might rush upon their vic- 
tims and slaughter them all, he turned his attention 
to the discovery of some means of escape from this 
land which was devouring its inhabitants. A slight 
indisposition afforded him a pretext for obtaining 
leave to pass some days with his relatives, and to 
them he communicated his design of getting to Eng- 
land as soon as possible to await there the termina- 
tion of the storm. Their grief, as may be easily 
imagined, was great at the idea of separating from 
him who formed the glory and happiness of his 
family, without knowing what was to become of 
him in a foreign country, or whether they would 
ever behold him again. He neglected nothing, how- 
ever, to calm their apprehensions and dry their tears. 
" If I can reach another land," he said, "fear not for 
me: when one is young and strong as I am, it is not 
difficult to live any where, for every where a subsist- 
ence can be earned by work; and I am not of a dif- 
ferent nature from so many men who have nothing 
but the labor of their hands for their support." 



34 LIFE OP 

Tearing himself from the embraces of his friends, 
he set out for Paris disguised as a layman and pro- 
vided with the passport of a shopkeeper, which they 
had succeeded in procuring for him. He reached the 
capital on the 25th of June, but he was soon recog- 
nised there, denounced to the committees of vigilance, 
and obliged to change his quarters, until, at length, 
he succeeded in concealing himself in an obscure 
and retired hotel, near the Church of St. Eustache. 
There he remained for two months, scarcely ever 
going out — seeing himself every day, as it were, be- 
tween life and death, and awaiting the favorable 
moment when he might execute his plan of going 
to England. On the 26th of August the law was 
passed which condemned all the non-juring priests 
to deportation; and of this M. de Cheverus deter- 
mined to take advantage — desiring nothing better 
in the existing state of things. He had escaped 
by a miracle the search which had been made for 
his person; and he had already been discovered by 
the landlord of the hotel to be a priest, from the way 
in which he prayed in his chamber and recited his 
breviary. The massacres of the 2d and 3d of Sep- 
tember took place, and happening at the moment to 
be near the convent where the victims were sacri- 
ficed, he was only rescued from destruction by 
hiding himself for several days in the room of his 
younger brother, then a student of law in the College 
of Louis le Grand. A position so trying completely 
wore him out, and he was eager to be released from it 
at every hazard. He would have welcomed martyr- 
dom itself, and envied the fate of his brethren who 
had sealed with their blood their devotion to the faith. 
"How I could have wished," he often said after- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 35 

wards, in speaking of those awful times, "how I 
could have wished a bullet to place me by the side 
of so many martyrs." But as this happiness was 
not granted to him, and he was forbidden to seek 
for death, he caused his brother to make every 
arrangement for his speedy departure. The latter 
had the passport vised, which he got at Laval, and 
thinking that a passport of deportation would also 
be useful to the Abbe, he passed himself off as the 
curate of Mayenne, and obtained it by virtue of the 
law of the 26th of August. Fortified with these two 
passports, M. de Cheverus immediately left Paris, 
disguised in lay attire, and arrived without interrup- 
tion at Calais on the 11th of September, 1792. There, 
for the first time, he made himself known as a priest, 
showed his passport of deportation and embarked 
for England, which he safely reached — happy to be 
associated in this grand act of devotedness with the 
great body of the French clergy, who carried into 
exile the open confession of their faith, and a holy 
horror of heresy and schism. 



36 



BOOK II. 

LIFE OF CARDINAL DE CHEVERUS OUT OF FRANCE. 

It was a highly painful position — one well fitted to 
prostrate a soul less noble and less sustained by the 
power of faith and the sentiment of duty — that of a 
young man transplanted to a foreign land without 
knowing any one, without an acquaintance with the 
language, without any other pecuniary resource than 
the small pittance he had brought with him, which 
must soon be spent. But strong in his confidence in 
God, M. de Cheverus was not for a moment dis- 
quieted, did not for a single day lose his serenity and 
peace. The English government, with a generosity 
that must do it eternal honour, tendered him a share 
in the succour it was then affording to all the un- 
justly persecuted and banished French. M. de Che- 
verus, still more generous even, thanked the govern- 
ment for the noble and benevolent offer, and prayed 
it to apply its aid to others who might have more 
need of it than himself. " The little I possess," he 
said, (he had not more than three hundred francs,) 
" will suffice me until I learn something of the lan- 
guage, and then I will be able to earn my livelihood, 
even if it be by laboring with my hands." 

He set himself forthwith assiduously at work to 
study the language, and seconded by his natural 
facility, knew enough at the end of three months to 
give lessons in French and mathematics at a board- 
ing-school, in which he became a teacher in the 



LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 37 

month of January, 1793. The head of this school 
was a Protestant minister, so filled with prejudice 
against Catholic priests, that he watched his new 
assistant day and night to satisfy himself with regard 
to the purity of his morals and the regularity of his 
conduct. The result was to the honour of the 
Catholic religion. Never was he able to detect M. de 
Cheverus in the smallest impropriety; and inspired 
with admiration for a virtue that never wavered, 
which was always the same both in private and pub- 
lic, he yielded him his entire confidence, after frank- 
ly confessing the extreme mistrust with which he had 
received him, and which had been so completely 
removed. M. de Cheverus was there well provided 
with all the necessaries of life — it was all he desired; 
so that the salary he got in addition, enabled him to 
indulge his excellent heart in the delightful satis- 
faction of assisting his companions in misfortune. 
Penetrated with the evangelical maxim, "it is better 
to give than to receive," all that he gained was for 
them. He denied himself every thing that he could, 
in order to be as prodigal as possible to others. 

Happy in this advantage which he derived from 
his situation, he found also another very important 
one in the fact of his having in his pupils the best of 
all masters for the acquisition of English. Hearing 
nothing but that language spoken by them, he learnt, 
by necessity, the signification of words of which he 
was previously ignorant, and became familiar with 
the idioms, phrases, and accent. Forced to speak 
nothing but English, he improved every day in the 
society of the young people, who, as is natural 
to scholars, did not allow a single fault either of 

grammar or pronunciation to pass, without giving 

4 



38 LI FE OF 

him immediate notice of it by a malicious smile, or 
a good-natured joke, at which he would laugh with 
perfect good humour, thank them for it, note with 
care, or cause to be pointed out to him in what the 
phrase or accent was defective, and remember it all 
the better that men are least apt to forget what has 
rendered them an object of ridicule. 

Thanks to these vigilant monitors, M. de Cheve- 
rus at the end of a year was able to speak English 
in the most correct and intelligible manner. But he 
had a higher object in view than the mere acquisition 
of a language. His ardor in its study was impelled 
by his regarding it as an instrument of rendering 
himself useful to religion; and, accordingly, he went 
to the Catholic Bishop of London, and having proved 
both by some compositions which he submitted to 
him, as well as by his conversation, that he was 
sufficiently master of English for the useful exercise 
of the ministry, he asked and obtained permission to 
perform all ecclesiastical duties in his district. He 
then called upon several Catholic families who lived 
in the neighbourhood without church or priest, pro- 
posed to them to meet together every Sunday and 
festival, and offered himself as their pastor. They 
gladly acceded to the proposal, and on the ensuing 
Sunday he delivered his first sermon in English. 
Anxious to discover whether he had been well un- 
derstood, he asked a man of the lower orders what 
he thought of his sermon. "Your sermon," replied 
the individual with great naivete, " was not like other 
sermons, there was not a single dictionary word in 
it; every word could be understood without assist- 
ance." This answer satisfied M. de Cheverus, and 
gave him more pleasure than all the praises of culti- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 39 

vated men. To the last year of his life he loved to 
repeat it to his clergy, to make them understand that 
the principle merit of preaching is to be intelligible 
to all, even the humblest; that all those recondite 
expressions and ambiguous phrases, for the compre- 
hension of which the poorer classes would require 
a dictionary, should be banished from the pulpit, and 
that it is better to be understood by a simple woman 
than lauded by an academician. 

Encouraged by this first success he continued to 
preach and to catechise, and soon formed a flock 
both edifying and numerous. Finding that the small 
room in which he had begun his ministry was no 
longer adequate, he determined to open a chapel. 
This was a great enterprise for a poor exiled priest, 
but such was his zeal, such the liberality of the con- 
gregation he had assembled, that his success far sur- 
passed his first design. Not only was a chapel pro- 
cured, but a large establishment also, for the eccle- 
siastics who should officiate in it, as well as those 
whom they might please to associate with them. 
The Bishop of London learning the success and the 
apostolic zeal of M. de Cheverus, went in person to 
consecrate the new chapel, to show the interest which 
he felt in the work, and the high esteem that he 
entertained for its founder. 

This undertaking being satisfactorily accomplished, 
M. de Cheverus determined to quit the institution in 
which he had given lessons since his arrival in Eng- 
land, thinking that the time which he spent there 
every day might be more usefully employed for the 
service of God and the salvation of souls. He fixed 
himself, accordingly, in the mansion contiguous to 
the chapel, and as it was too extensive for a single 



40 LIFE OF 

individual, he invited several ecclesiastics to share it 
with him — glad to be able to add this to his other 
charities. 

Scarcely had he taken this step when a rich Eng- 
lish nobleman, struck with the encomiums that he 
heard of him in every quarter, made him an earnest 
request that he would undertake the instruction of 
his son in algebra and geometry. M. de Cheverus 
accepted the task as one that would not interfere 
with his ministry, and might procure him the means 
of doing additional good. Thus he lived for some 
time, labouring constantly with satisfaction and suc- 
cess in his chapel, and every day giving lessons to 
his pupil. His lordship having become familiar with 
his admirable qualities, did every thing to attach him 
to his person, lavishing upon him all sorts of kind- 
ness and benefit, and making him the most flattering 
offers for the remainder of his life. 

The attractions of this position could not tempt 
M. de Cheverus. All the advantages and delights 
which he possessed appeared to him as dangerous 
for his piety, as unfit for a minister of Jesus Christ, 
who, like his master, should lead a life of poverty 
and self-denial. " I was too w^ell for a priest," he 
afterwards said to his friends, " I had nothing but 
enjoyment." He thought, moreover, that his ser- 
vices might be more important elsewhere than in 
England, where priests were superabundant. So 
many other countries were destitute, so many 
other nations were seated in the shadow of death, 
that might they not one day reproach him for 
remaining where there was more than enough of 
teachers, instead of carrying his ministry to places 
entirely without them? He communicated these 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 41 

ideas to the Bishop of London, who wished to 
fix him near himself, and replied, " Yes, there is, it 
is true, a superabundance here of priests, but at the 
same time there is a deficiency of priests like you, 
and of such I have need; remain with me." This 
decision did not tranquillize M. de Cheverus; his 
zeal still sighed after greater labours. 

An occasion was soon after presented for his self- 
devotion. A college was about to be opened at 
Cayenne. All the preparations were made, and the 
only thing wanting was a principal, a man equally 
wise, firm, zealous, and learned. All these qualifi- 
cations, it was thought, were found united in M. de 
Cheverus, and accordingly the situation was tendered 
to him, with representations of the great benefits 
which might result from it to religion. After mature 
reflection, he came to the conclusion that he ought 
not to accept the offer. He felt the want of a wider 
field than the precincts of a college; and, besides, 
much as he loved letters, it was only as a relaxation 
from the toils of his ministry and the severity of seri- 
ous studies, and not as the business of his existence. 
Providence seems to have brought him to this resolve 
to save him from the persecutions which not long 
after broke out against the priests of Cayenne, and 
which must have cut him off in the midst of his 
career. This same Providence protected him not 
less visibly in another circumstance, and snatched 
him from a certain death, notwithstanding all the 
efforts which he made to rush upon his fate. 

The Bishop of Dol had appointed him his grand- 
vicar, in order to secure his assistance when happy 
days should again shine upon afflicted France. In 

this nomination M. de Cheverus had seen at first 

4* 



42 LIFE OF 

nothing but a proof of attachment on the part of the 
bishop whom he esteemed and revered; but shortly 
afterwards the emigrants having formed the unhappy 
project of the Quiberon expedition, and the prelate, 
impelled by his wish to return to his diocese, having 
consented to accompany it, M. de Cheverus thought 
that his title of vicar-general then imposed upon 
him a solemn duty. He, therefore, solicited the 
bishop's permission to go with him. " No," replied 
the latter, " I am old and may risk the short remnant 
of my days; but you are young, and I should deem 
myself guilty of a crime against the church, were I 
to expose her to be deprived of the long and useful 
services which you may render." M. de Cheverus, 
whom personal danger never intimidated, insisted, 
begged, entreated: "You are a father to me," he 
said; " the duty of a child is to be with his father iii 
the day of peril: I must and I will follow you." The 
bishop was obliged to assume a more decided tone to 
arrest his intrepid resolution. " If you go," he at 
length declared, "you cease to be my grand-vicar; I 
withdraw the title; remain, it is my wish; and if the 
enterprise should succeed, I will immediately call 
you over to me." M. de Cheverus was forced to 
obey, and those only who knew his heart, can under- 
stand how much it cost him to separate thus from 
the venerable friend of his youth; with how much 
solicitude he watched the expedition; and what agony 
he experienced on learning its fatal issue, and the 
slaughter of almost all concerned in it, including the 
excellent bishop himself. 

This escape from death rendered M. de Cheverus 
still more eager to consecrate entirely to God the days 
which his providence had saved — the promptings of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 43 

the zeal which called him to other lands became still 
more powerful. Whilst occupied with such thoughts, 
he received a letter from the Abbe Matignon, a 
former professor in the Sorbonne, whom he had 
known in Paris. This excellent clergymen, not less 
estimable for his piety than his talents, for his zeal 
than his prudence, was alone at Boston, where he 
had been placed by Mr. Carroll, the Bishop of Balti- 
more, who had then the whole United States under 
his ecclesiastical jurisdiction; and with the charge of 
the city he had that, also, of the tribes of the Penob- 
scot and Passamaquoddy Indians. Dismayed at a 
trust so much above the strength of a single indivi- 
dual, and still more at the hostility of more than 
thirty different religious sects, all animated with 
the most violent hatred against what they termed 
papistry r , he was anxious to obtain an assistant to 
divide with him the heavy burden. The difficulty 
was to find a proper one; for every priest was not 
calculated for a country imbued with such prepos- 
sessions against the Catholic clergy. It was requi- 
site to have a man of gentle virtue, of engaging 
manners, of perfect disinterestedness, and cultivated 
intellect, who might be able to overcome prejudice, 
to secure affection, and to win consideration and 
esteem. After the fullest and most conscientious 
deliberation, it seemed to M. Matignon that the 
man whom he wanted was M. de Cheverus, whose 
rare merit and delightful character he had appre- 
ciated when at the Sorbonne. He wrote to him, 
therefore, in 1795; depicted all the misfortunes of this 
neglected mission; pointed out to him a new church 
to be created; told him of Catholics spread over an 



44 LIFE OP 

immense surface without spiritual succour, and ex- 
posed to the danger of losing their faith; of savage 
tribes, to whom the light of the gospel might be car- 
ried — in short, mentioned every species of apostolical 
labor to be performed. How worthy of his zeal 
was not this boundless field! and in what quarter of 
the world could his services be more useful to the 
church ! 

M. de Cheverus was greatly moved by this letter. 
The reasons which it contained seemed peremptory 
and unanswerable, and the man who gave them 
was both his friend and a person of exemplary holi- 
ness; but the matter was too serious a one to permit 
him to make a hasty decision, or follow at once 
the impetuous dictates of unthinking zeal. He took 
time, therefore, for deliberation; sought assistance in 
prayer; asked advice; weighed all the arguments 
for and against the step; and at length, after all 
the hesitation demanded by prudence, decided on a 
compliance with the Abbe Matignon's request. He 
then deemed it his duty to communicate his deter- 
mination to the Bishop of Mans, from whom he had 
always received so much kindness. That excellent 
prelate wrote him a most affectionate reply; praised 
and admired his zeal, but at the same time expressed 
his fear that his "young friend," as he called him, 
was undertaking too much, and would never return 
to his diocese, which, he said, would be a source of 
deep regret to himself and an irreparable loss for his 
flock. M. de Cheverus, however, saw in this letter 
only an evidence of regard; his mind was made up; 
and neither the entreaties of his friends, the prayers 
of the good Bishop of London, nor the love of his 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. ♦ 45 

country, from which he was about to be separated 
probably for ever, could shake for an instant his 
resolve. 

He thought now only of hastening his departure; 
but one difficulty was still to be removed. This was 
the settlement of his present and future rights upon 
his patrimonial estate — a matter, however, which 
he speedily arranged. Going to the ambassador of 
France in London, he made a formal and irrevo- 
cable renunciation of all his patrimony in favor of 
his brother and sisters, and requested the functionary 
to transmit the act to his family as soon as possible. 
Poor now as his master, Jesus Christ, possessing 
nothing whatever in the world, he felt his heart 
more free, undisturbed and content. It seemed to 
him that having thus imitated the apostles, who had 
abandoned all to follow their vocation, he was better 
fitted for a mission entirely apostolical; and that God, 
who had planted the faith throughout the world 
by the hands of twelve poor men, would be more 
pleased with the efforts of his poor minister in the 
other hemisphere; and besides, a sentiment as honor- 
able to his good heart as that to which we have 
alluded was worthy of his piety, breathed peace and 
consolation into his soul. As the revolutionists of 
France seized upon the property of all the emigrants, 
he was apprehensive lest under this name the expa- 
triated priests might be included, and his family 
might be disturbed by an attempt to deprive them of 
his part of the inheritance; but by the act he had 
executed before the ambassador, he secured their 
tranquillity and comfort, to his own inexpressible 
consolation. 

He then made application for a passage in a vessel 



46 LIFE OF 

about to sail to Boston; but his request was at first 
refused, probably in consequence of the prejudices 
against Catholic priests. Not heeding, however, the 
reply of a subaltern, he addressed himself to the cap- 
tain, whom he so charmed with his conversation and 
manners, that he not only consented to receive him 
on board his ship, but promised him every atten- 
tion in his power during the voyage. 

Every thing being prepared for his departure, M. 
de Cheverus bade adieu to his sorrowing congrega- 
tion, and his numerous friends, whose grief was 
universal and unfeigned. "Ah! my friend," ex- 
claimed one of them as he embraced him with tears 
in his eyes, "was it then only in order to con- 
vert savages that you wrote such beautiful disserta- 
tions at the Sorbonne ? Why hide your talents in 
the woods ? In France you would have been one of 
our most eminent bishops." M. de Cheverus tore 
himself from all these hopes and from all these em- 
braces, and embarked for Boston. The first Friday 
he ate nothing but bread and cheese, in compliance 
with the rule of abstinence — a circumstance which 
would have drawn upon any one else the laughter 
and jokes of the passengers, who were all Protestants ; 
but he had inspired them with so much respect and 
interest, that no one indulged in the least unpleasant 
reflection, and the captain gave orders that for the 
future a repast en maigre should be prepared every 
Friday and Saturday for the Catholic missionary. 
During the whole voyage there was thus an uninter- 
rupted exchange of kindness and friendly attentions 
between M. de Cheverus and those on board the 
ship. On the 3d of October, 1796, he arrived safely 
at Boston, where he was received by M. Matignon as 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERTJS. 47 

an angel sent from heaven to his aid. The good 
Abbe immediately informed Bishop Carroll of the 
happy event, asking him, at the same time, for the 
powers requisite for the new missionary, whose tes- 
timonials he sent to him — one from the Bishop of 
Dol and the other from the Bishop of Mans, both 
equally strong in their attestations to the purity of 
his faith, the fervor of his zeal, the warmth of his 
piety, his uncommon erudition, and perfect loyalty 
to his king and to the head of the church.* Mr. 
Carroll was overjoyed at the intelligence of his arri- 
val, and lost no time in investing him with all the 
powers requisite for his ministry. 

Strong in their mutual confidence and in their trust 
in God, M. Matignon and M. de Cheverus set 
earnestly to work upon the great task confided to 
their zeal. The enterprise was vast, and surrounded 
with a thousand difficulties. To convey an idea of 
them it will suffice to allude to the state of the mis- 
sion, and the general feeling among the inhabitants 
of that region. The mission embraced all New Eng- 
land, of which Boston is the chief town, and the sav- 
age tribes of Penobscot and Passamaquoddy, that is 
to say, a territory more than a hundred leagues in 
extent, over which the Catholics were so dispersed, 
that it was impossible to collect them together for the 
public exercises of religion. The missionaries, there- 

* Attestamus ipsum cum zelo et prelate singulari se gessisse tan- 
quam dignum et commend abilem Dei ministrum. Sana doctrina im- 
butum, scientia et religione commendabilem, regno regique Franco- 
rum addictissimum et devotissimum, atque propter zelum Catholicae 
fidei, sanctaesedis apostolicae inviolabile studium nee non constantem 
verbi divini prasdicationem et pertinacem impiorum conatibus resis- 
tentiam a parochia sua violenter ereptum. 



48 LIFE OF 

fore, were obliged to traverse this extensive country, 
to visit the different families one after the other, at 
distances sometimes of two or three hundred miles, 
and to administer the sacraments and offer up the 
holy sacrifice in each habitation, for even if a con- 
gregation could have been assembled there was no 
church for their meeting. Matters were still worse 
with regard to the Indians. Wandering in the woods 
at the extreme end of the state of Maine, not less 
than two hundred miles from Boston, they could not 
be benefited unless the missionaries absented them- 
selves for several months from the central part of 
their mission. These difficulties, however, were far 
from discouraging the holy men. Privation, labour, 
and fatigue are the portion and the happiness of an 
apostle. A much more serious obstacle was in their 
path. 

The whole country, and Boston in particular, inha- 
bited by English colonies who had carried thither all 
the prejudices of their father land, was filled, as we 
have already mentioned, with a multitude of sects, 
all disagreeing among themselves in doctrine, but all 
united upon one single point — hatred to the Catholic 
faith. The ministers of these various denominations 
never ceased declaiming against it, never ceased ex- 
hibiting it to the people as an impure mass of idola- 
tries, and corrupt and despicable individuals, as the 
new Babylon cursed in the Apocalypse, as the enemy 
of God and man. Its doctrines were depicted as a 
hideous collection of impiety, absurdity, and error, 
its priests as vile impostors, to be avoided like a pes- 
tilence. These denunciations, so often repeated, had 
found credence and taken root among all ranks of 
society, so that every where the name of Catholic 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 49 

was held in execration, a priest was regarded with 
horror, and the small number of the faithful who 
lived in that section, were objects of contempt or 
dislike, the more so that being almost all exiled Irish- 
men, they were poor, and in consequence destitute 
of consideration. 

With such hostile feelings pervading the country, 
how establish there a Catholic church? No hope 
could be cherished of assistance from persons so pre- 
judiced, still less of inducing them to open their ears 
to the missionaries. Nothing could be expected but 
contradiction and impediments. The effort had 
already been made without success by Mr. Thayer, 
a man of fervent piety; and who could seem better 
fitted for the work ? Once a Presbyterian clergyman, 
he had been converted at Rome, and subsequently 
became a priest, and a teacher of the Catholic faith 
in the same place in which he had previously taught 
another doctrine, so that it seemed as if his example 
as well as his precepts ought to have produced the 
most salutary impressions; but he excited displeasure 
by some acts of excessive zeal, and a polemical chal- 
lenge which he sent to the Protestant ministers so 
embittered the animosity against him, that Bishop 
Carrol deemed it requisite to transfer him to another 
place. 

Instructed by this example, M. Matignon and M. 
de Cheverus saw that the greatest circumspection 
was necessary, and that the first thing to be aceom- 
plished was the removal of those odious prejudices, 
which, so long as they existed, would prove an insur- 
mountable barrier to their endeavours. To that end 
nothing, they thought, would be so conducive as cha- 

5 



50 LIFE OP 

rity in their proceedings, mildness in their discourse, 
and above all, the example of a truly apostolic life — 
the best refutation of calumny. It was then that 
Boston beheld a new and touching spectacle — that of 
two men, models of every virtue, living together as 
brothers, without distinction of goods, without diver- 
sity of inclination, always anxious to yield to each 
other's views, to consult each other's wishes, form- 
ing in truth one heart and one soul, with the same 
desires, those of doing good, the same dispositions, 
those of virtue, the same love for all that is upright, 
honourable, and benevolent. There was, indeed, 
between these two admirable individuals the most 
delightful intercourse, the most affectionate friend- 
ship, which never, however, degenerated into fami- 
liarity. In their relations there was always some- 
thing elevated and refined that harmonized with the 
nobleness of their sentiments, and the dignity of their 
character, and which even from a Protestant jour- 
nal,* extorted the following remark: "Those who 
witnessed the manner in which they lived together, 
will never forget the refinement and elevation of their 
friendship; it surpassed those attachments which de- 
light us in classical story, and equalled the lovely 
union of the son of Saul and the minstrel of Israel." 
To this example of a union which religion alone 
could render so perfect, they joined that of a life 
of poverty and privation, endured with dignified 
patience, and devoted to prayer and ministerial avo- 
cations. They did good whenever an opportunity 
was afforded; they exhausted themselves in journeys 
and fatigue of every kind, travelling miles on foot 

* Boston Monthly Magazine. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 51 

at all hours of the night and day and in all sea- 
sons, to carry consolation to the afflicted, succour 
to the indigent, words of reconciliation to divided 
families; in short, they sacrificed themselves com- 
pletely for the welfare of others, and looked upon 
the sacrifice as nothing — clearly showing that they 
were prompted by no interested view, that they 
expected naught from the world, neither fortune 
nor glory, and that their whole hope was in hea- 
ven. Whoever accosted them, met with a kind and 
gracious reception; whoever asked a service of 
them, found them always willing and happy to 
oblige — wherever, in fine, they were encountered, 
they were recognised as men unlike all others, with 
sentiments more elevated, souls more philanthropic, 
hearts more generous, apostles in very truth, and 
men of God. 

So attractive a spectacle could not fail to astonish 
the people of Boston, and cause them to ask them- 
selves — f Are these then the Catholics of whom we 
have heard so much ill; the Papists who have been 
painted to us in colours so dark?" The force of pre- 
judice, however, was too strong to be immediately 
overcome. Much time was requisite to undeceive 
persons so imbued with error; and it was only at 
the expiration of a year, that a Protestant sought 
M. de Cheverus, and held this frank and remarkable 
language — "Sir," said he, "for this year past I have 
been, studying you, following all your steps, watch- 
ing all your actions; I did not believe that a minister 
of your religion could be a man of worth; I come 
to make reparation for the injustice, to declare that 
I esteem and venerate you as the most virtuous indi- 
dual I have ever known." 



52 LIFE OF 

To this first testimony, others were soon added, not 
less remarkable. A Protestant journal* relates that 
a clergyman wishing to gain over to his opinions 
two men whose virtue and learning shed so great 
a lustre upon the city, called upon them one day for 
the purpose of convincing them of the error of their 
religion and the excellence of his own. Struck with 
the naivete of the enterprise, they received him 
with great kindness, thanked him for his benevolent 
intentions, and after listening patiently to all that he 
had to say, answered him with so much clearness 
and force that he was completely silenced, and on 
his return to his friends, to whom he had commu- 
nicated his design, remarked — "These men are so 
learned that there is no arguing with them; their 
lives are so pure and evangelical as to leave no room 
for reproach; and I am -much afraid that the influ- 
ence of so much virtue, joined to so much know- 
ledge, will give us a great deal of trouble." 

Some idea may be formed from this incident, of 
the revolution which the conduct of M. de Cheverus 
and M. Matignon had operated in men's minds. 
Contempt had been succeeded by esteem and even 
veneration. " In contemplating them," said the jour- 
nal already cited, " who can doubt that human na- 
ture is permitted to approach perfection, "and as- 
sume a near and sweet resemblance to the man 
divine. The pagan world was full of instances of 
lofty and virtuous conduct which dignified and ex- 
alted human nature. History and fable have pre- 
served the fact. The hero, the seer, and the sage 
had existed before Christianity was known — but the 

* Boston Monthly Magazine, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 53 

saint is a character which has been added to the 
catalogue since. Socrates, the wise and the good, 
had not, like John, a master's bosom on which to 
lean his head, where all was purity and love." 

After so happy a change in public opinion, M. de 
Cheverus might well enter the pulpit and preach 
with confidence; for prejudices are soon lost against 
a religion whose ministers are revered. It was in 
fact precisely what happened. From the commence- 
ment of his mission, he had preached, catechised — 
in every thing efficiently seconded by M. Matignon; 
his sermons had produced the most admirable effects; 
the Catholics had listened, with the truest edification 
and delight to his eloquence, ever flowing and na- 
tural because inspired by the heart, ever persuasive, 
because he asked nothing which he did not practice 
himself; but now that prejudice was in great mea- 
sure superseded by an opposite sentiment, Protest- 
ants also were anxious to hear him, and once having 
heard him, were eager to hear him again and again. 
It was impossible for them not to admire so much 
simplicity united with so much elevation — not to 
love that goodness of heart which breathed through 
every phrase — that charity whose tenderness seemed 
to melt in every tone of his voice. "His eloquence," 
said one of their journals, " is persuasive in the 
extreme: one feels that all he says emanates from the 
purest and noblest sentiments: his sermons, which 
are always too short, overflow with the tenderest 
piety; it would seem as if a seraph had touched his 
lips with a burning coal from the altar of the Most 
High." 

M. Matignon, whose soul was above every feeling 
of rivalship or jealousy, was overjoyed at the success 

5* 



54 LIFE OF 

and estimation of his colleague. Whenever he heard 
him praised, his face would beam with delight, like 
that of a father rejoicing in the triumphs of a che- 
rished son. On the other hand, M. de Cheverus 
beholding this pure and disinterested friendship, en- 
deavoured in every way to show him his affection 
and gratitude, and reverence. Whatever superiority 
he possessed over him in some respects, he looked 
upon himself as his disciple and child, and did no- 
thing save by his direction and advice. He con- 
sulted him even in regard to his sermons, and before 
he entered the pulpit, every thing was almost inva- 
riably concerted between them. 

The esteem with which M. de Cheverus was 
regarded, naturally extended itself to his congrega- 
tion. It was not to be supposed that the flock of 
such a pastor could be as vile and as despicable 
as they had been represented. Prejudice daily de- 
creased, and the instructions of M. de Cheverus, 
together with the docility of the Catholics in con- 
forming to them, soon dissipated it altogether. He 
often repeated to his hearers the lesson of the apostle, 
that those who speak ill of us should be silenced by 
means of charity, good works, and holy example; 
that the characteristic of true piety is to be ever 
amiable, ever promoting the happiness of all around, 
to preserve towards all under every circumstance, a 
deportment alike respectful, kind, and delicate. After 
their duties to their neighbours, he explained those 
enjoined upon them towards the state; showed them 
the obligation of obeying the laws even when they 
might be avoided without incurring their penalties; 
of respecting the magistrates, of contributing to the 
good order, peace, and prosperity of the country, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 55 

and should it be attacked, of employing force in its 
defence, if required, and sacrificing fortune, and life 
itself. The Catholics listened to his instructions, and 
put them in practice. Of the religious societies of 
Boston, they became one of the most distinguished 
for their justice, their charity, their devotion to every 
thing right; and during the last war which the United 
States waged against England, none were more 
ardent in their patriotism, none more ready to carry 
aid wherever it was needed, and none more active 
in laboring, even with their hands, in the construc- 
tion of whatever was requisite for the defence of 
the city; so that the Protestants were compelled to 
acknowledge that they were excellent citizens no 
less than upright and honorable men. Division then 
ceased; mutual relations of esteem and respect were 
established, and M. de Cheverus was thus enabled 
to give the following reply to an interrogatory from 
the Holy See in reference to the state of his mission: 
" In this place where a few years ago, the Catholic 
church was an object of execration, the name of 
a priest held in horror, we are now esteemed and 
loved, thought of kindly, and kindly treated." " In 
hac nostra civitate et aliis locis ubi paucis ab hinc 
annis infandum ut it& dicam, erat ecclesia Catholica, 
horrendum sacerdotis nomen, nos veneratione et 
amicitia prosequuntur, benigne de nobis cogitant, 
benigne in nos agunt." 

The universal confidence inspired by M. de Che- 
verus soon extended his relations, and multiplied 
them indefinitely. Protestants and Catholics, all 
desired to make the acquaintance of a man so esti- 
mable; whilst, on his part, always accessible and 
kind, he received every one with the most winning 



56 LI FE F 

cordiality. If his visiter had no business with him 
and was only attracted by the pleasure of his society, 
he took no offence, but congratulated himself upon 
being able to render religion and virtue agreeable. 
The majority, however, of those who called upon 
him were the afflicted, who sought words of conso- 
lation from his lips, the unfortunate, who came to dis- 
close their wants and invoke his aid, and the waver- 
ing, who were anxious to obtain his advice. It is 
worthy of remark, that a large number of Protestant 
ladies, in the highest ranks of society, were in the 
habit of opening their minds to him, and revealing 
their most secret disquietudes both of family and of 
conscience, and this to such an extent that one of 
them having observed to him that what was most 
revolting to her in the Catholic religion and would 
always prevent her from embracing it, was the prac- 
tice of confession, he replied with a benevolent 
smile: " No, madam, you do not feel so much repug- 
nance to confession as you imagine ; on the contrary, 
you feel all its necessity and value, for you have been 
confessing to me for some time past without being 
aware of it. Confession is nothing else than the 
revelation of those troubles of conscience which you 
wish to confide to me in order to receive my advice." 
Thus was M. de Cheverus the confidant and coun- 
sellor of all; and one of the lessons that mothers were 
in the habit of inculcating upon their children, was 
that of having recourse to his instructions, and taking 
them for guides in all the cares and difficulties of life. 
A Protestant writer tells us that "he received as 
many confessions out of the confessional as in it, 
because every one knew that his heart was a safe 
and consoling depository of all disquietudes and all 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 51 

secrets, and that his wisdom always indicated the 
path of prudence and the road of duty." 

It was not to consultations alone that the confi- 
dence felt in M. de Cheverus was limited. Numbers 
entrusted to him all their temporal interests, which 
they were unable or incompetent to take care of 
themselves — widows, orphans, servants, invalids, 
persons ignorant of business, and who had neither 
parent nor friend to attend to their concerns. They 
placed their money in his hands, and like a good 
father of a family, solicitous for his beloved children, 
he invested it to the best advantage in his own name, 
nursed it carefully and wisely, and at each payment 
of interest carried it forthwith to the owners. At 
other times persons who were apprehensive of dis- 
putes among their heirs, or fearful that their inten- 
tions would not be faithfully fulfilled, constituted M. 
de Cheverus their universal legatee, and thus relieved 
themselves from all solicitude in the certainty that 
every thing would have at once its just and its 
wisest destination. To those who were capable of 
managing their own affairs, he gave sage advice, 
teaching them what was to be avoided and what 
was to be done, and by such instruction, more 
precious than alms, assisted in extricating them 
from distress, and enabling them to attain an honest 
independence. 

Let it not, however, be supposed, that these chari- 
table occupations ever distracted M. de Cheverus 
from his peculiar duties; they but formed his recrea- 
tion after his repasts; the rest of his time was devoted 
to his studies and his ministry. Every day he dedi- 
cated a certain period to theological science; but not 
to the neglect of other intellectual pursuits. An atten- 



58 LIFE OP 

tive and sagacious observer of society, he had 
remarked the high esteem entertained for human 
erudition, and for those who possessed it, the little 
regard paid to those who were devoid of it, and the 
general tendency towards literary attainments, even 
among the women; and thence he inferred that in 
order to remove the reproach of ignorance which 
was cast upon the Catholic clergy, to conciliate the 
esteem which it is indispensable for a preacher to 
enjoy, it was requisite to yield to none in that respect; 
that it were vain for a priest to be only versed in the 
knowledge appropriate to his calling, as the world, 
which holds such acquirements in little honour, 
would still brand him with the stigma of ignorance, 
and in consequence be little disposed to hearken and 
trust to his words. He, therefore, applied himself to 
the studies most in vogue in Boston. " So perfectly 
had he learnt English," says a journal of that city, 
" that no one was more master of its difficulties, no 
one more familiar with its idioms, its constructions, 
its etymologies." He read all its principal authors, 
both in prose and verse, and retained all their finest 
passages in a way to astonish the learned by the 
extent of his acquisitions, and the pertinency of his 
quotations, though his familiarity with English was 
by no means equal to that which he possessed with 
French, Greek, and Latin literature. He was in the 
constant habit of refreshing his memory by the peru- 
sal of the classics. * He seemed," says the journal 
just mentioned, "to pass from the business of the 
altar to the groves of the academy, and having drunk 
of the fountains of the muses, and culled the flowers 
of Parnassus, he returned with fresh ardour to his 
sacred functions." Such varied accomplishments 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 59 

brought him into contact with all the literati of Bos- 
ton; the learned societies of the city all enrolled him 
among their members, and wished him to attend 
their meetings, which he consented to do in the hope 
of rendering such relations subservient to the inte- 
rests of religion, and with the idea that perhaps they 
were the means employed by God for the execution 
of his designs. In every mode in his power he 
favoured the propagation of science and plans for the 
increase of knowledge; and when Mr. Shaw under- 
took to found the Athenaeum of Boston, he aided 
him with his counsels and his efforts, and made a 
considerable donation of books from his own library; 
in fact he was regarded in the city as one of the 
most zealous labourers in the cause of letters. 

So brilliant a reputation could not long remain 
enclosed within the precincts of Boston. Archbishop 
Carroll, informed of his talents and virtues, thought 
that a priest of so much merit ought not to continue 
in a secondary place, and that he was worthy of 
being invested with the charge of a more important 
church. In consequence he wrote to him, offering 
him the pastorship of the church of St. Mary, at Phi- 
ladelphia. Honourable as was this letter to M. de 
Cheverus, it yet gave him pain. He could not brook 
the idea of leaving his excellent friend, M. Matig- 
non, who had called him from England, and whom 
he venerated as a father; and thanking Mr. Carroll 
for this testimonial of his confidence, he begged his 
permission to remain where he was — a request which 
could not be refused. 

Not long afterwards M. de Cheverus set out on 
a visit to the state of Maine, which he had several 
times before traversed, with his heart tortured by 



60 LIFE OF 

the condition of the Catholics residing there. More 
numerous than in all the other New England States, 
excepting Massachusetts, which counted nearly six 
hundred, they had neither priest nor temple. M. de 
Gheverus, with the co-operation of the principal per- 
sons among them, caused a church to be built at 
New Castle, which he dedicated to the service of 
Almighty God under the invocation of St. Patrick, 
and made M. Romagne, one of his compatriots from 
the neighbourhood of Mayenne, its pastor. Great 
was the joy of the new congregation, enthusiastic 
the blessings with which they ever afterwards men- 
tioned the name of M. de Cheverus. Thence he 
prosecuted his journey to the country of the Penob- 
scot and Passamaquoddy Indians — savage tribes wan- 
dering through the forests without any fixed habita- 
tion, and dividing their time between fishing and 
the chace. 

He had previously obtained some little knowledge 
of their language, in which he had taken lessons, 
for want of another teacher, from an old squaw, 
who possessed the merest smattering of English, but 
enough, fortunately, to enable her to explain her 
own idiom. Guided by the questions which he put 
to her, she declined its nouns and conjugated its 
verbs, doubtless -for the first time in her life; he 
writing under her dictation, and then committing 
what she had told him to memory. With one cir- 
cumstance he was particularly struck in the course 
of his studies. He observed, as he made her conju- 
gate the verbs, that she used affixed pronouns* like 

* In Hebrew pronouns are so called which are joined with certain 
words in a way to form one and the same word, as, in French, 
faime for moi aime. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 61 

those of the Hebrew tongue. Surprised at this cir- 
cumstance, he caused her to repeat what she had 
said, twisted his questions into a variety of shapes, 
and at length became convinced of the curious ana- 
logy which exists in that respect between the Hebrew 
and the language of the Indians. 

Thus provided with the means of making himself 
understood, and with every thing else requisite for 
the exercise of his sacred functions in a region alto- 
gether destitute, he set out on foot with a guide — 
a trusty staff in his hand, like the first preachers of 
the gospel. Never before had he undertaken such 
an expedition, and it required all the courage of an 
apostle to support its sufferings and fatigues. A som- 
bre forest, no distinguishable path, thorns and thick- 
ets through which it was necessary to open a pas- 
sage, no other nourishment than the bread they had 
taken with them, no other bed than the branches of 
trees spread upon the earth, around which they were 
obliged to kindle a huge fire to keep off the snakes 
and other dangerous animals which might have de- 
stroyed them in their sleep — such were the evils to 
be encountered. They travelled in this way for 
several days, when one morning (it was the Sabbath) 
the sound of a number of voices singing in harmony, 
was heard in the distance. M. de Cheverus listened, 
advanced, and to his infinite surprise recognised 
music with which he was familiar — that of the royal 
mass of Dumont, with which the churches and cathe- 
drals of France resound during the principal fes- 
tivals. His delighted astonishment, the sweet emo- 
tions which took possession of his heart, may be con- 
ceived. The scene was at once touching and sub- 
lime; for what more affecting than to behold a savage 

6 



62 LIFE OP 

people, left without a spiritual guide for more than 
fifty years, still faithful in celebrating the day of the 
Lord; and what more sublime than those sacred 
songs, attuned by piety alone, resounding throughout 
that immense, majestic forest, repeated by every 
echo, and sent up to heaven from the depths of every 
heart ! 

Filled with joy at thus finding those whom he 
sought, M. de Cheverus hastened towards the assem- 
blage. It was collected at Indian Old Town, in the 
island formed by the Penobscot river, in the midst of 
the forest. At the sight of that black gown which 
they had not seen for fifty years, they uttered cries of 
happiness and delight, ran towards him, called him 
their father, and made him sit down upon the bear- 
skin, their seat of honour. He then communicated 
to them the object and duration of his visit; caused 
them to admire the goodness of God who had not 
forgotten them, but had sent him to dispense to 
them his word, his graces, and his sacraments; and 
appointed an hour and place of meeting for the 
whole period of his stay. After his discourse, in 
which the instinct of the savage easily discerned the 
goodness and the charity of the man of God, they 
asked him to share their repast. Here was a new 
trial to the fortitude and self-control of M. de Cheve- 
rus. To refuse would be to afflict those who had 
made the request in the kindness of their hearts, or to 
offend them if they should suspect that the refusal 
proceeded from superciliousness and contempt, or 
scandalize them if they saw in it an evidence of epi- 
cureanism and fastidiousness, which they could not 
appreciate ; but how accept the food ? Every thing 
was so dirty, so disgusting, as to turn the stomach. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 63 

He determined, however, upon doing violence to him- 
self, and drank the broth and ate the meat which were 
presented to him on the bark of a tree, the only plate 
of the savage; but after the repast he told them with 
that accent of mildness which he possessed in such 
perfection, that if he had thus indulged, it was for 
the purpose of giving them pleasure, and celebrating 
the happiness of finding himself for the first time 
among them, but that for the future he had need of 
nothing but bread. 

Such was in fact the principal nourishment of M. 
de Cheverus during the time which he passed with 
the tribes. Sometimes, as he used to relate, he 
found a little cheese to eat with his bread, and then 
he made quite a feast. On one occasion, for more 
than two months, he was obliged to live entirely on 
boiled fish; and yet the labour he underwent was 
painful and incessant. Every day he gave instruc- 
tions, catechised, confessed, or baptised; and besides, 
he was compelled to go from one place to another, 
often at considerable distances, to visit the infirm and 
the sick. The Passamaquoddy tribe, also, who 
dwelt at a certain distance from the Penobscots, and 
numbered almost an equal amount of proselytes, 
called for his care. He went from one tribe to 
the other, carrying to all the benefits of his minis- 
try, and encountering privations of every sort with 
joy. Privations, however, were nothing compared 
with the necessity of close contact with the sav- 
ages to hear their confessions, of breathing for hours 
at a time the infectious odour exhaled from their 
filthy bodies, and, to cap the climax of his suf- 
ferings, of being assailed by those disgusting insects 
with which they were covered, the only salary, he 
used to say afterwards, that he received for his 



64 LIFE OF 

ministry. The first time he was subjected to this 
ordeal, he became very sick; and to overcome his 
repugnance, he was forced to summon to his aid all 
the energy inspired by faith. 

To recompense so many sacrifices, he had the 
consolation of seeing his ministry blessed. The minds 
of the Indians were in the best possible disposition. 
The Jesuit missionaries who had planted the faith 
among them, had instructed them in so solid a man- 
ner, had so well formed them to the practice of reli- 
gion and the exercises of worship, that even after 
fifty years of neglect, the poor people had not yet for- 
gotten their catechism. The fathers taught it to their 
sons, the mothers to their daughters, and not a Sun- 
day, or festival day was allowed to pass without the 
celebration of that part of the mass and the offices 
which it is competent for the people to perform. All 
were docile in the extreme, and filled with sincere 
desire to practise what they learnt ; there were none, 
even to the children, who did not recite their cate- 
chism with attention and an expression of deep 
interest in what they were saying. So pure were 
their morals that a woman having committed a grave 
and public crime, the whole tribe was filled with 
indignation and dismay; and M. de Cheverus thought 
it necessary to subject the culprit, as in the primitive 
days of the church, to a public penance. Whilst he 
was celebrating the holy mysteries under the branches 
of a tree arranged in the form of a chapel, she was 
obliged to stand without at the entrance, confused 
and penitent, and imploring the prayers of the faith- 
ful; and it was not until after a certain period of pro- 
bation that she was permitted to enter the sacred pre- 
cincts, and assist with the others at the holy sacrifice. 
To this purity of morals were united a simplicity 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 65 

and a rectitude truly admirable. In the outset of his 
ministry among the tribes, M. de Cheverus deemed it 
proper to use an interpreter in confessions, in conse- 
quence of his imperfect acquaintance with the lan- 
guage; and painful as might be this expedient which 
admitted a third person into the secrets of consciences, 
the savages, men and women, went with the most 
edifying frankness and simplicity to reveal their sins 
to the interpreter, who transmitted them faithfully 
to the confessor, and explained the questions and 
counsels of the latter to the penitents. This interpre- 
ter was an old man remarkable for his piety and the 
austerity of his manners. He would have wished 
M. de Cheverus to treat the sinners who came to him 
with more severity, and sometimes he would scold 
him, saying, " Now, father, you are not strict enough; 
those persons are not devoted to prayer ; you must 
inflict a harder penance upon them." 

It is impossible to express the veneration which 
the Indians entertained for M. de Cheverus. Where- 
ever he went he was received with the warmest 
demonstrations of joy; and it was always the wife of 
the chief, or the queen of the tribe, who claimed the 
privilege of waiting upon him. By the potency of 
his virtue and benevolence, he was like a sovereign 
among them, and had his least directions executed 
with the utmost eagerness. Having one day espied 
a boat loaded with rum approaching the bank of the 
river, and fearing that if the liquor were sold among 
the savages, they would get intoxicated, and there 
would be no longer a possibility of keeping them in 
order, he went to the owner, and assuming a tone of 
authority, said to him, " I am king here, and may 
make such regulations of the customs as I please ; 

6* 



66 LI FE OF 

you shall not land that liquor." The other persist- 
ing in his design, M. de Cheverus called some of the 
savages, and ordered them to destroy the barrels con- 
taining the rum as soon as they should touch the 
shore. They promised ready obedience, but the man 
becoming alarmed, went off and never re-appeared. 

These simple people esteemed themselves happy 
in doing any thing agreeable to their beloved mis- 
sionary. It was an honor emulously sought to guide 
him through the immense forests he was obliged to 
traverse in the exercise of his ministry. Directed by 
the branches of trees or certain plants whose bent 
indicated the points of the compass, they never failed 
to conduct him safely to his place of destination. One 
of them carried on his head the bark canoe in which 
the lakes and rivers they encountered were passed. 
In these boats there was room but for three: a savage 
placed himself at each end, and in the centre was the 
missionary, who was forced to lie down, as the least 
movement would have upset the frail vessel. When 
it was necessary to ascend some cascade or rapid 
current, or go through some difficult strait, the skill 
and celerity with which the obstacle was overcome 
by the savages were marvellous. On one occasion 
when about to ascend a rapid current where there 
was considerable danger to be apprehended, M. de 
Cheverus warned his two companions of the peril: 
"With thee father, we have no fear, but without 
thee, much:"* was their reply. It was not only over 
lakes and rivers that the savages took their mission- 
ary; sometimes they even ventured into the open sea. 

* This is as fine an answer almost as the celebrated one " Csesa- 
rera vehis" — and somewhat more modest withal. — TV. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 67 

One day M. de Cheverus was met and recognised 
while coasting along the ocean by a captain of a ship, 
who rebuked him for his temerity in thus exposing 
himself in so fragile a bark, and offered to take him 
in his own vessel to his place of destination; but 
M. de Cheverus would not accept his kindness, for 
fear of paining his savage conductors, and the next 
morning he arrived safely at the place he wished 
to visit. 

Thanks to religion, which inspires and preserves 
every lofty and delicate feeling, M. de Cheverus 
found among these savages an elevation of sentiment 
which might have put a more civilized people to the 
blush! He found grateful hearts, who gave him 
numberless proofs of affection, which he was ever 
fond of relating: tender mothers; children who car- 
ried even to heroism their filial piety; great and 
generous souls, that were filled with the truest sense 
of honor and of duty. He often mentioned traits of 
the most admirable kind; we will only repeat the 
following: 

English travellers had spread throughout the coun- 
try the news of the death of Louis XVI., brought to 
the scaffold by his own subjects, and sacrificed to the 
revolutionary delirium in the presence of sixty thou- 
sand of them, who remained motionless with arms in 
their hands, without daring to make a single effort in 
his behalf. The savages could not credit the intelli- 
gence. The French missionaries, men so mild and 
so good, who had been the instruments of their conver- 
sion, together with M. de Cheverus himself, in whom 
were revived all the virtues of the first apostles, had 
given them in regard to the French an idea of an hon- 
orable and generous people; and this notion they could 



68 LIFE OP 

not reconcile with the story in question. One of 
their chiefs went to M. de Cheverus and said to him: 
"Father, we know that thou dost not lie; tell us the 
truth. The English say that the French have put 
their king to death; that is not possible: it is only to 
make us hate the French that they tell us this story; 
let us know the fact." M. de Cheverus was much dis- 
composed by this question, and deemed it sufficient to 
reply that it was not the French nation who put their 
king to death, but a band of ruffians who had seized 
upon the sovereign power, and that France herself 
repudiated them with all the horror and execration 
deserved by their crime. "Ah! my father," rejoined 
the savage with a sorrowful countenance, "since 
such is the case, I no longer love the French. It was 
not enough for them to disavow the crime — they 
should have thrown themselves between the king 
and his assassins, and sooner died than permitted his 
person to be touched. See, my father," he exclaimed, 
"it is just as if some one should come among us 
to kill you, and we should suffer you to be killed. 
Would we not be guilty? But we are better than 
the French, for we would all be slain in defending 
you." The feelings of M. de Cheverus at this 
speech can scarcely be expressed — all the reply he 
could make was to press the hand of the noble- 
minded savage, and embrace him, with tears in his 
eyes. 

After passing three months with the Indians, and 
promising to return every year and spend the same 
time among them, M. de Cheverus went back to 
Boston. There a fresh occasion awaited him of dis- 
playing his zeal, and showing to the world what 
a soul inspired by religion can effect. The yellow 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 69 

fever was raging in the city, and had already carried 
off numbers of victims. All were paralysed with 
dread of a malady which was deemed contagious; 
and fear overcoming the feelings of nature, as soon 
as any one was attacked the house was deserted, 
and the poor wretch left alone on his bed of death, 
without succour and without consolation. In this 
extremity, M. de Cheverus did not hesitate to devote 
himself to the care of the sick; he became their 
apostle and nurse, going from house to house with 
ceaseless assiduity. As soon as he heard of any 
one's being stricken, whether Catholic or Protestant, 
he hastened to him like a ministering angel, and 
with the kindest solicitude poured balm into his 
troubled spirit, at the same time that he lavished the 
utmost care upon his bodily wants — even making 
his bed and rendering services not only the most 
revolting to nature, but the most humiliating, so to 
call them, did not charity ennoble every act that it 
inspires. In vain did his friends expostulate with 
him on this exposure of his life ; in vain did they 
rebuke him for risking an existence so useful to reli- 
gion and society. Nothing could restrain him. " It is 
not necessary," he would say, "that I should live; 
but it is necessary the sick should be taken care of, 
the dying attended to;" and during the whole con- 
tinuance of the malady, he never, for a single day, 
intermitted the performance of those painful and 
perilous duties of charity. Such was the generous 
devotedness of which M. de Cheverus gave an ex- 
ample to New England, not only upon this occasion, 
but at every reappearance of the fever. He was 
always to be seen at the post of danger — by the side 
of the sick and the dying — braving destruction with 



70 LIFE OF 

a calmness and equanimity that seemed unsuspicious 
of peril, as well as with a modesty and humility that 
were scarcely conscious of a sacrifice in what every 
one else regarded as the most beautiful self-devotion. 
Such conduct carried the attachment and venera- 
tion of the people of Boston for M. de Cheverus to 
the highest point. From that period they looked 
upon him as the apostle of charity, the hero of 
religion. Wherever he appeared, every one was 
anxious to do him honor; in every assemblage the 
first place was reserved for him, and assigned him 
with peculiar pleasure, because his modesty would 
always have induced him to take the last. He never 
seemed to be aware of his claims to such manifesta- 
tions of esteem and honor, always believing himself in- 
debted for them to the kindness of his fellow citizens. 
What was still more remarkable, at all the repasts at 
which he was present, in company often with ministers 
of different denominations, it was invariably he that 
was asked to bless the table, both by the master of 
the house and the ministers themselves, as the wor- 
thiest to perform the office; and, although he made 
the sign of the cross and said the usual prayers of 
the Catholic church, the respect entertained for his 
person overcame the strength of prejudice and caused 
him to be listened to with religious attention. When 
John Adams, the President of the United States, 
came to Boston, M. de Cheverus was invited to the 
solemn banquet given by the city to the chief of the 
republic, and the two first places were reserved for the 
president and the priest. The former, struck by this 
mark of respect to a Catholic clergyman in a city 
where a few years before the mere circumstance of 
being one was enough to render the individual an 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 71 

object of contempt, could not help making this re- 
mark to M. de Cheverus — "What astonishes me 
most on the present occasion, is to see myself here 
and then to see you here" — alluding to the violent 
opposition which Boston had formerly made to his 
election to the chief magistracy. 

M. de Cheverus received another mark of conside- 
ration from the government of the state, with which 
he was much more pleased, as it concerned the inte- 
rests of religion and conscience. The legislature hav- 
ing prepared the formula of an oath to be taken by 
all citizens on presenting themselves to vote, were 
fearful that something might be found in it irksome 
to the consciences of Catholics, and in consequence 
wrote to M. de Cheverus on the subject, praying 
him to modify the formula himself if he saw in it any 
thing opposed to Catholic principles, and expressing 
implicit confidence in his wisdom. Flattered by a 
proceeding equally honourable to him and to the 
assembly, who proved by it how well they under- 
stood the rights of conscience, M. de Cheverus pre- 
pared his formula, and presented it himself. It was 
adopted and became a law. 

In the midst of this universal respect, M. de Cheve- 
rus, who was ever intent upon promoting the interests 
of religion, thought the time had arrived for the exe- 
cution of an important project which he had long 
been meditating. The Catholic religion as yet had 
no suitable church in Boston, divine worship having 
been celebrated in private houses converted into 
chapels. It was impossible any longer to accommo- 
date both the Catholics, whose numbers were daily 
augmenting by the arrival of emigrants from every 
country, and the Protestants who were desirous of 



12 LIFE OF 

hearing the sermons and beholding the imposing 
ceremonies of the church. M. de Cheverus, there- 
fore, opened a subscription for the erection of a 
Catholic church in Boston. The first to put his name 
on the list was the president himself, John Adams, 
who was happy to have an opportunity of manifest- 
ing the regard which he felt for M. de Cheverus, 
and the interest he took in all that might give him 
pleasure. Such an example set by the Protestant 
head of a country almost wholly Protestant, could 
not fail to have numerous followers, and in fact the 
list was soon covered with the most distinguished 
names of almost every sect. On all sides the greatest 
liberality was shown in lending aid to the execution 
of the project. M. de Cheverus then deliberated in 
concert with the most eminent architects, upon the 
plan of a church in keeping with the sums expected. 
Each one communicated his views — the architects 
wishing to make it a grand majestic edifice; M. de 
Cheverus anxious to give it the grave, austere and 
religious aspect which would harmonize with its cha- 
racter. After mature consideration, the plan was 
fixed upon, but M. de Cheverus did not hasten its 
execution with that imprudent temerity which ad- 
vances without reflection. He began by laying the 
foundations and raising the walls as far as the money 
actually collected would warrant, and when this was 
exhausted, he stopped the work and forbade a single 
stone to be added until he had received a further sup- 
ply. It was in vain for persons to make offers to him 
of credit, to urge him to allow them to proceed with 
the building, promising to wait his convenience for 
payment; he would never consent to such an arrange- 
ment. "The funds," he said, "depend upon the 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 73 

generosity of others, and as I cannot be certain of 
them, I will not suffer any one to be exposed to loss." 
The work in consequence remained for a while sus* 
pended; and until the completion of the edifice, he 
inflexibly adhered to this rule of permitting no greater 
progress in its construction than was authorised by 
the money he had in hand. 

Whilst this church was building in Boston, the old 
cathedrals of France were again opening their por- 
tals to the Catholic faith, and religion, triumphing 
over the impotent efforts of the enemies who had 
sworn its destruction, was rising from its ruins. 
Pius VII. had concluded with Bonaparte the con- 
cordat of 1801; and in virtue of this treaty, the 
French bishops and priests who had been so long in 
exile, were returning to their homes, re-establishing 
the abolished worship, and tasting the double happi- 
ness of seeing their country once more, and exer- 
cising their ministry unmolested. The family and 
friends of M. de Cheverus, afflicted at not finding him 
hasten back with the other exiles, wrote to him to 
urge his return. The letter was of the most pressing 
kind, and the arguments employed were of almost 
irresistible force. Why did he delay to come ? the 
doors of his country were opened, Mayenne was ex- 
pecting its pastor, its widowed church was sighing 
for his arrival. Appeals were made to his heart, to 
his love for his family, who were inconsolable at his 
absence, for his friends who were impatient to be- 
hold him again, for France to whom he owed himself 
before all. This letter threw M. de Cheverus into a 
state of anxiety impossible to describe. His heart 
was torn, as it were, asunder. On one side, the love 
of his country was powerfullv persuasive — he would 

7 



74 LIFE OP 

have so much delight in revisiting his beautiful 
France, in seeing his relatives, his friends! He 
seemed to behold all his brethren in exile returning 
with ecstacy to their native land, embracing with de- 
licious tears those most dear to their affections, and 
why should not he partake their joy? He might 
render himself useful to religion there; the success 
which he had experienced in troublous times was an 
earnest of still greater success in the halcyon days of 
tranquillity. On the other side, how could he leave 
his beloved congregation who were so devoted to 
him, the rising church which had so much need of 
him, and even so many good and sincere friends of 
other faiths, to whom perhaps he might be useful? 
How abandon, above all, the Abbe Matignon, his 
father, his friend, the half of his soul ? how desolate 
his breast — how overwhelm him, how destroy him, 
perhaps, by the grief with which he would be stricken 
at his departure. 

Whilst M. de Cheverus was thus agitated by con- 
flicting feelings, he received, on the 9th of April, 
1803, a letter from Bishop Carroll, who having 
learnt how much danger there was of losing so effi- 
cient a coadjutor, wrote to beseech him not to aban- 
don his post. The prelate, a man of superior intel- 
lect, as well as of virtue worthy of the first ages of 
the church, spread before him with great force all 
the reasons fitted to detain him, and finished by de- 
claring his conviction that it was the will of God he 
should remain. M. de Cheverus, whose humility 
prompted him to follow the opinion of others instead 
of his own, to decide from obedience rather than from 
his own inclinations, no sooner read this letter than 
his uncertainty ceased. He thought he saw in it the 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 75 

command of Providence, and that was sufficient for 
his faith. Instantaneously he offered up to God the 
sacrifice of his country, and of all the gushing reflec- 
tions which beckoned him towards it; and on the Sun- 
day after Easter, he announced to his flock that his 
resolution was taken, that he would remain among 
them, sharing their good and their evil fortune, and 
that they should fill the place of those relatives and 
friends whom he gave up for their sakes. The joy of 
the Catholics, and indeed of all the inhabitants of Bos- 
ton at this intelligence, may be more easily imagined 
than described. The fear of losing him had thrown 
them into consternation; the assurance of keeping 
him filled them with happiness, and to give him a 
striking proof of their gratitude, they made new and 
great exertions to finish the church which had so 
long before been commenced. The building, in con- 
sequence, proceeded with great rapidity; and in four 
months M. de Cheverus had the satisfaction of see- 
ing the edifice completed, and planting the cross 
upon its roof. He immediately communicated the 
fact to Bishop Carroll through the medium of M. 
Matignon, and invited him to consecrate the new 
temple on the 29th of September, the feast of Saint 
Michael. The Bishop at once promised to perform 
the ceremony. The consecration of the first Catholic 
church in a city like Boston, was too interesting a 
circumstance for the faith, to permit him to hesitate; 
and, besides, the temptation to pass some days with 
two ecclesiastics like M. Matignon and M. de Che- 
verus, was irresistible. He repaired, therefore, to 
Boston on the day appointed, and on the 29th of 
September, 1803, consecrated the edifice under the 
name of the Church of the Holy Cross. The cere- 



76 LIFE OP 

mony was magnificent, the temple was decorated 
with draperies and garlands, the altar covered with 
rich ornaments, and surrounded by a clergy whose 
edifying deportment was still more attractive; the 
crowd was prodigious; Protestants and Catholics, 
were alike eager to see the ceremony; and M. de 
Cheverus put the crowning glory to the festival by 
the discourse which he pronounced. Inspired by the 
occasion, by the presence of the first pastor of the 
church in America, by the numerous concourse of 
people, he spoke with a warmth, an energy of ex- 
pression and sentiment which carried the audience 
away. The Bishop could not restrain his emotion, 
and when the preacher descended from the pulpit, 
he threw himself upon his neck, shedding tears of 
joy, and blessing God for having bestowed upon the 
church so admirable a servant. On the evening of 
the ceremony, M. de Cheverus caused the exterior 
of the edifice to be illuminated with all possible 
splendour, but with all that taste which he possessed 
in so exquisite a degree. The inhabitants, without 
distinction, were all delighted with the beauty of the 
spectacle, congratulated M. de Cheverus, and seemed 
to share in his happiness. On beholding this scene, 
Bishop Carroll could not help contrasting what he 
saw with the state of the Catholic religion in Boston 
at the period of M. de Cheverus's arrival, and want- 
ed words to express his astonishment and delight. 

Once consecrated, this church became the theatre 
of the most ardent and indefatigable zeal on the part 
of M. de Cheverus. He had it ornamented in every 
part, and furnished with every thing requisite for the 
full performance of divine service. The manner in 
which this was celebrated constantly attracted crowds 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 77 

as great as the building could contain, amongst them 
numbers of Protestants, to whom he had the conso- 
lation of addressing the words of eternal life. To 
these instructions he attached the utmost importance, 
regarding them as the most essential means of en- 
lightening his separated brethren, and confirming the 
faith of his flock. Accordingly, in order that the 
latter might never fail to attend them, he allowed no 
mass to be public on Sundays and festivals of obli- 
gation, except the solemn one during which a sermon 
was preached. The low masses were said privately 
with closed doors, no one being suffered to hear them 
without a special permission, which could only be 
obtained when it was impossible for the applicant to 
be present at the solemn mass, or by a promise to 
attend at the latter also. 

Whilst M. de Cheverus was engaged in these im- 
portant labours, he received a letter from the prison 
at Northampton, which called him to the exercise of 
the most painful of his ecclesiastical duties. Two 
young Irish Catholics had just been condemned, 
although innocent, to death — victims of human liabi- 
lity to error of judgment, but chiefly of the unskilful- 
ness of their advocate, and an unfortunate concur-* 
rence of circumstances which seemed to demonstrate 
their guilt. Resigned to the decree which had been 
pronounced against them, and thinking only of the 
preparation of their souls for the great voyage of 
eternity, they wrote to M. de Cheverus to request his 
presence. Their letter, which we have found among 
the papers of the Cardinal, although indicative of 
little education, is the production of Christians full of 
faith. "We adore," they say, "in the fallible de- 
crees of men, the will of God; if we are not guilty of 

7* 



78 LIFE OF 

the crime imputed to us, we have committed other 
sins, and to expiate them we accept death with- 
out murmuring. Our salvation alone occupies our 
thoughts; it is in your hands; come to our aid." As 
it is the custom in the United States to take the con- 
demned to a church to hear a sermon immediately 
before execution, they sent a second letter to M. de 
Cheverus, begging him to deliver the discourse. u It 
will be a painful task to you," they write, "after the 
fatigues of a long journey, and with the spectacle be- 
fore you of two young men about to be cut off in the 
flower of their age ; but you will not refuse us this 
favour, you will not reduce us to the necessity of 
listening, before we die, to other than a Catholic 
voice." Whatever suffering this double ministry 
might inflict upon his heart, M. de Cheverus delayed 
not to encounter it, but forthwith repaired to the suc- 
cour of the unfortunate beings. The hatred of Ca- 
tholicism was then carried to such a pitch in North- 
ampton, that it was with great difficulty he could 
procure a lodging in the town. He passed several 
days in prison with the convicts, and by his instruc- 
tions, and the sacraments which he administered, 
brought them to so holy a frame of mind, that they 
contemplated their approaching end not only without 
dismay, but even with a joy that seemed to anticipate 
the happiness of heaven. He himself, however, was 
filled with real grief; and those whom he had come 
to comfort became his comforters. When the fatal 
day arrived, anxious to render their exterior neat and 
decent for the execution, they asked for a razor to 
shave their beard; it was at first refused, but at the 
instance of M. de Cheverus, who pledged himself 
that they would make no attempt upon their lives, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 79 

their request was finally granted. At the appointed 
moment M. de Cheverus accompanied them to the 
church. There some Protestant ministers wished to 
pronounce the usual discourse, but M. de Cheverus re- 
solutely opposed their desire: "The will of the dying/' 
he said, "is sacred; it is I whom they demand; it is 
I alone who will speak to them." He accordingly 
ascended the pulpit, and casting his eyes upon the 
immense concourse around, among whom he beheld 
a multitude of women, he became fired with a holy 
anger against the curiosity which attracted so many 
spectators to so mournful a scene. " Orators," he 
exclaimed in a loud and severe tone of voice, " are 
generally flattered by a crowded audience, but I, I 
am ashamed of that which I see before my eyes. 
There are then men for whom the death of a fellow 
creature is an object of curiosity — a spectacle of de- 
light! — But you, especially, women, what are you 
doing here ? Is it to wipe off the cold sweat of death 
which is dropping from the brows of these unfortu- 
nate beings ? Is it to experience the sorrowful emo- 
tions which the scene must awaken in every feeling 
breast ? No, doubtless, no ! It is to behold the an- 
guish of the sufferers; to behold them with a dry, an 
eager, a greedy eye. Oh! I am ashamed of you. 
Your eyes are full of homicide. You boast of being 
humane, you say it is the first virtue of woman; but 
if the misery of another is a pleasure to you, if the 
death of a man is an amusement, it is impossible to 
believe in your virtue; you forget your sex; you are 
its reproach and its disgrace." The execution soon 
followed the discourse, but not a female dared to ap- 
pear at it; all left the church and went their way, 



80 life or 

blushing for the barbarous curiosity which had drawn 
them from their homes. 

The Protestants of the place, struck with the elo- 
quence of M. de Cheverus, desired to hear him again. 
He complied with their wish, and preached several 
times in public, conversed with them in private, and 
seized every opportunity of destroying their preju- 
dices against the Catholic religion by showing them 
how well founded are its dogmas, how holy, pure 
and winning its precepts. Some of them whom the 
touching spectacle of the execution of the two Irish- 
men had greatly affected, and who could not believe 
that guilt could wear an aspect so modest and so 
tranquil in the presence of death, begged M. de Che- 
verus to inform them from what he had learned in 
the confessional, whether the young men were not 
really innocent. To this request he promised to give 
them, in his next discourse, the only answer he was 
at liberty to afford; and, accordingly, glad of the oc- 
casion to proclaim and to vindicate the truths of his 
faith before the numerous audience assembled to hear 
him, he developed with force and clearness the doc- 
trine of the church with regard to confession, the 
divine institution of this sacrament, its precious ad- 
vantages, and the inviolability of the secrecy imposed 
upon the confessor, who cannot disregard it even to 
save a kingdom. So charmed were his listeners with 
his discourses, so fascinated with his manners and 
conversation, that they would have kept him among 
them; and he had almost as much difficulty to get 
away from them as he had experienced in finding an 
asylum on his arrival. 

Soon after his return to Boston, he was solicited to 
make a visit in another quarter, for the purpose of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUs/" 81 

accomplishing the conversion of a chosen soul, on 
which heaven seemed to have great designs. 

Mrs. Seton, a Protestant lady of distinguished birth 
and fortune, and remarkable both for the energy of her 
character and the rectitude of her heart, was then at 
Philadelphia, seeking for that conviction and peace 
of mind which she had not found in the religion she 
professed. The great reputation of M. de Cheverus 
had inspired her with a wish to commune with him; 
but as she could not go to Boston, he was requested 
to pay her a visit. If he had hearkened only to the 
dictates of his zeal, he would have set out on the in- 
stant, but his delicacy arrested him. He thought it 
might appear like a want of consideration for the 
clergy of Philadelphia, and an ostentatious inter- 
ference with their functions, to go to that city for 
the purpose of giving lessons in Catholicity. He 
therefore caused Mrs. Seton to be informed that he 
could not confer with her in person, but that if she 
would write to him he would be happy to furnish 
her, through the medium of letters, with all the ex- 
planations she might desire. She adopted this plan, 
and disclosed her doubts and difficulties in several 
epistles, marked by all the charms of her intellect 
and the uprightness of her character. M. de Cheve- 
rus was punctual in his replies, and to each objection 
gave so clear, so precise, and so sound an answer, 
that it was impossible not to be satisfied with it; but 
convinced that faith is a grace which it is not in the 
power of man to bestow either upon himself or upon 
others, he prayed fervently, and offered up the holy 
sacrifice for the success of his efforts. Mrs. Seton 
soon had the happiness of seeing her doubts vanish 
before the influence of his reasonings, and of behold- 



82 LIFE OP 

ing the Catholic faith, as described by his pen, in all 
its purity and beauty. Her zeal, however, was not 
satisfied with merely a change of religion: she was 
eager to embrace every thing, the most perfect and 
the most sublime, which her new faith recommended. 
She wished to devote herself without reserve, quit- 
ting all, sacrificing all, to whatever her guide might 
deem most agreeable to God, and most useful for her 
salvation; and in consequence she wrote another let- 
ter to M. de Cheverus, in which she opened her 
whole soul to him, revealed her projects, and be- 
sought his advice. He replied, felicitating her upon 
her good resolutions, and giving her the counsels she 
requested; and added, that since God had inspired 
her with courage to dedicate herself to the highest 
services of religion, he would advise her to become a 
sister of charity to instruct the ignorant, assist the 
poor, and tend upon the sick; that, although this sub- 
lime order did not exist in America, it would be 
worthy of her to establish it, and be its first mem- 
ber. Mrs. Seton, immediately upon the receipt of 
his letter, put her temporal affairs in order, abandon- 
ed the world and the brilliant position which she 
occupied in it, and repaired to Emmetsburg, in Mary- 
land, where she assumed the humble habit he had 
mentioned. Under the guidance of the brethren of 
the society of St. Sulpitius, who had there a college, 
she established a hospital for the sick, and a school 
for the poor; and, joining with her other pious wo- 
men, became the founder of the first religious insti- 
tution of charity in the United States. In this new 
position she never intermitted her correspondence 
with M. de Cheverus. He was her angel and her 
guide, and for him she entertained a veneration be- 



. ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 83 

yond the power of words to describe, though it might 
have been comprehended from the effect produced 
upon her when she met him for the first time. This 
was several years after her conversion. M. de Che- 
verus being on a visit at Emmetsburg, went to the 
new hospital which he had been so instrumental in 
erecting, and asking for the superior, told her his 
name. On hearing it, she fell upon her knees, seized 
his hands, bathed them in tears, and remained in that 
posture for more than five minutes, without being 
able to articulate a word. 

Whilst M. de Cheverus was thus prosecuting his 
holy labours, Providence was preparing for him the 
honours of the prelacy. Bishop Carroll, who was 
incessantly occupied with the means of accelerating 
the progress of the Catholic religion in the United 
States, had conceived the idea of erecting four new 
sees, one of which was to be at Boston, and embrace 
the whole of New England. For this bishopric he 
had, in the first place, cast his eyes upon the venera- 
ble M. Matignon, whose age and learning, and former 
reputation as doctor and professor in the Sorbonne, 
seemed to give him a preference over his more youth- 
ful assistant; and he was on the point of sending his 
recommendations to Rome, when M. Matignon was 
informed of his intentions. Alarmed at the intelli- 
gence, the excellent old Abbe hastened to protest 
against the selection, gave a formal refusal, and pro- 
posed his friend M. de Cheverus in his place. The 
Archbishop, who was well acquainted with the me- 
rits of the vicaj of Boston, had no difficulty in allow- 
ing himself to be persuaded, and wrote to Rome ac- 
cordingly. His letter was favourably received. On 
the 8th of April, 1808, Pius VII. sent his brief, erect- 



84 LIFE OP 

ing Baltimore into a metropolitan see, and creating 
four suffragan bishoprics, at Boston, New York, Phi- 
ladelphia, and Bardstown, in Kentucky. M. de Che- 
verus was named for the first; Mr. Concanen, a Do- 
minican, for the second ; Mr. Egan, a Franciscan, for 
the third; and Mr. Flaget, a St. Sulpitian, for the 
last. 

On the arrival of this news at Boston, M. de Che- 
verus was equally afflicted and surprised. His mo- 
desty dreaded the honour, and his affection for his 
superior, M. Matignon, revolted at the idea of being 
placed above him; but all his representations and 
complaints to the Archbishop were of no avail, and 
he was eventually obliged to acquiesce. M. Matig- 
non, who rejoiced in his elevation, as a father would 
do in that of his son, wished at once to give him the 
place of honour, as Bishop of Boston, both in their 
dwelling and in the church, but to this M. de Che- 
verus would never consent. He refused all distinction, 
and during the two years that elapsed before the 
arrival of the bulles, in consequence of the troubles 
in which Italy was then involved, and the death of 
the bearer of them, Mr. Concanen, he insisted always 
upon remaining in the second place, as the mere 
vicar of M. Matignon, whom he never ceased to 
treat as his master and his guide. 

At length, the bulles having arrived, he repaired 
to the seminary at Baltimore, to make preparations 
for his consecration, and perform the customary re- 
treat. This he did under the directions of Mr. Nagot, 
the superior of the establishment, an old man of an- 
gelic virtue, of the most admirable simplicity of cha- 
racter, and the profoundest humility. On the 1st of 
November, (All Saints Day,) 1810, he was conse- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 85 

crated in the cathedral of Baltimore by Archbishop 
Carrol], assisted by his co-adjutor, Mr. Neal, and Mr. 
Egan, Bishop of Philadelphia. On the 4th of the 
month, the feast of St. Charles, he preached in the 
same cathedral at the consecration of Mr. Flaget, 
Bishop of Bardstown; and pronounced upon the oc- 
casion a remarkable discourse, which his modesty 
alone prevented from appearing in print, its publica- 
tion having been universally demanded. In it he 
saluted Mr. Carroll as the Elias of the new law, the 
father of the clergy, the conductor of the car of Israel 
in the new world — Pater mi, Pater mi, currus Israel 
et auriga ejus; and celebrated the praises of the So- 
ciety of St. Sulpitius, to which Mr. Flaget belonged, 
citing the various eulogiums that had been pronoun- 
ced upon it at different epochs in the assemblies of 
the clergy of France, and the phrase which fell from 
the lips of Fenelon on his bed of death, at that mo- 
ment when a man flatters no more — " I know no- 
thing more venerable and more apostolical than the 
order of St. Sulpitius." 

Before separating, the five Bishops availed them- 
selves of the occasion to establish certain general 
regulations for the administration of their churches, 
amongst which the following are most worthy of 
notice: — 1. Poor as they are in subjects for the eccle- 
siastical state, the Bishops declare that they will 
with pleasure permit their diocesans to enter either 
the regular or secular orders to which they may 
deem themselves called. 2. They forbid any trans- 
lation of the Holy Scriptures to be inserted in prayer- 
books, except that of the Douay Bible. 3. They 
permit the prayers which precede and follow the 
essential form in the administration of the sacra- 

8 



86 LIFE OF 

ments, to be said in the common tongue, with the 
exception of the mass, which must always be cele- 
brated entirely in Latin; but they forbid the use of 
any version of those prayers save such as shall be 
approved by all the Bishops of the province. 4. They 
are unwilling that the vow of perpetual chastity 
should be allowed out of regular religious associa- 
tions. 5. They exhort all pastors of souls to combat 
incessantly, in both public and private, all attach- 
ment to diversions dangerous to morals, such as balls 
and plays, and forbid the perusal of books calculated 
to weaken faith or corrupt virtue, particularly ro- 
mances. 6. They forbid all priests to admit to the 
sacraments those whom they know to belong to the 
society of free-masons, unless they have obtained 
from them a promise of ceasing to frequent the 
lodges, and of openly proclaiming that they are no 
longer members of tke society. 

These regulations having been adopted, M. de 
Cheverus immediately set out for Boston, as humble 
as before, or rather more humble ; for, according to 
his own expressions, he was ashamed and confused 
at a dignity for which he felt himself so little fitted. 
After his return nothing was changed either in his 
ordinary conduct, or in his relations with M. Matig- 
non, unless it were that being obliged to assume the 
first place, he endeavoured to compensate for it by 
redoubling his attentions to his excellent friend. He 
was as simple and modest as ever. One small cham- 
ber was all his mansion, and in showing it to the 
strangers who came to see him, he would say with a 
smile, " You see the episcopal palace, it is open to 
every one." Its furniture consisted of nothing but 
indispensable articles, without the slightest preten- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 87 

sion to luxury. The chairs were of the commonest 
material and make, and when, as it often happened, 
there were not enough of them to accommodate all 
his visiters, his bed, which was composed of some 
boards raised a little above the floor and covered 
with a light mattrass, was used as a seat. To an offer 
of a rich and elegant set which was one day made to 
him, he answered, " No, it would contrast too much 
with the rest of the furniture; it is better that all 
should be in keeping." Nevertheless, simple as was 
every thing around him, it was always neat and 
clean. His table was more or less frugal, in propor- 
tion to his resources, which depended entirely upon 
the contributions of the faithful; but he always wel- 
comed every one to it who came to eat with him, 
and this some one did every day, either attracted by 
the desire of enjoying his society, or of ascertaining 
whether he was provided with what was necessary. 
Every Sunday and holiday he had all the Catholics 
to dine with him who lived too far from the church 
to return home between the services; and, however 
numerous they might be, he entertained them all 
with the cordiality and satisfaction of a father among 
his children. To meet the expenses thus incurred, 
he deprived himself, not indeed of things of conve- 
nience and pleasure, for these he never thought of 
procuring, but of things that would seem indispensa- 
ble to life, economising in every thing, except alms. 
He even cut his own fire- wood; and his dress was of 
the simplest kind, though always in unison with his 
dignity. His congregation insisted upon this last 
point. They represented to him that their honour 
was concerned in not allowing it to be supposed that 
they permitted their Bishop to want what was requi- 



88 LIFE OP 

site, and that in consequence he ought not merely to 
consult the love of simplicity and poverty which filled 
his heart, but that from consideration for them, from 
reverence for the Catholic faith, he ought always to 
appear in a garb suited to his social position. 

The life of M. de Cheverus was not less the life of 
a missionary in deed than in spirit. Bishop though 
he was, he continued as before to exercise the hum- 
blest functions — confessed, catechised, visited the 
poor and the sick, went on foot alone, at all hours of 
the day and night, and in all seasons, to carry alms 
or consolation to the afflicted. Every year he spent 
three months among the Penobscot and Passama- 
quoddy tribes. This he had promised them on his 
first visit to do, and he had faithfully kept his word; 
and now that he was a Bishop, he deemed it only the 
more incumbent upon him to discharge this painful 
apostleship. In Boston he was never seen in the 
circles of pleasure; he was entirely absorbed in his 
duties, dividing his time between prayer, study, works 
of charity, and the functions of his ministry. He 
looked upon himself as the father of all his flock, and 
nothing was irksome to him by which he could ren- 
der them service. One day a poor sailor, before set- 
ting out on a long voyage, begged his protection for 
his wife, whom he left alone and without friends. 
The Bishop took as much care of her as of a sister, 
and the poor woman having fallen sick, he attended 
her with the utmost solicitude. At the end of seve- 
ral months the sailor returned, and on entering his 
humble abode met the Bishop going up stairs with 
an armful of wood to make a fire in the room of his 
wife, and prepare the remedies which she required. 
Overwhelmed with admiration, the sailor fell at his 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 89 

feet, bathed them in tears, and could scarce articulate 
his gratitude. M. de Cheverus was obliged to raise 
him from the ground, soothe his emotion, and comfort 
him with regard to the sickness of his wife. 

The love of the Catholics of Boston for their Bishop 
rivalled all that the primitive ages of the church had 
exhibited of such affection. In the same way as the 
faithful of Antioch were wont to give their children 
the name of St. Meletius, their Bishop, his parishi- 
oners were in the habit of calling their sons John r 
after him. On one occasion this gave rise to an 
amusing incident. M. de Cheverus having asked the 
sponsors according to custom, what name the child 
was to bear, they replied, "John Cheverus Bishop." 
" Poor child," he remarked, « God preserve you from 
ever becoming such." 

It was not only among his own congregations that 
the apostolic life of M. de Cheverus conciliated uni- 
versal esteem and love. So great was the veneration 
entertained for him by the ministers of various sects, 
that they even sometimes asked him to preach in 
their churches, Recollecting that St. Paul had 
preached in the synagogues, as well as in the assem- 
blies of the people, he would accept their invi- 
tations, and choose for the subject of his discourse 
some doctrine of the Catholic church; but he would 
treat it with so much tact, moderation, and apposite- 
ness, that far from offending any one, he always left 
his audience pleased, some, perhaps, convinced, 
others shaken, all at least disabused of prejudices. 
This, to a certain extent, we learn from a Protestant 
journal, giving an account of a sermon which he had 
preached in a Presbyterian church. " Certain it is," 

says the journal, " that his discourses are well adapt- 

8* 



90 LIFE OF 

ed to destroy the prejudices which exist against the 
Catholics — the moderation, the affection even with 
which he speaks of persons differing from his belief, 
offer a striking contrast to the furious language and 
bitterness which sometimes dishonour Protestant pul- 
pits/' Such, in truth, was the method of M. de Che- 
verus. Although addressing audiences of different 
creeds, he had only words of kindness and affection 
in his mouth, as he had nought but sentiments of be- 
nevolence and charity in his heart. His hearers felt 
from his appearance, his voice, his every word, that 
it was a sincere friend who was speaking to them, 
and a friend who was not only sincere, but tender 
and devoted, who wished them every possible good ; 
and this consideration rendered his sermons accepta- 
ble, and opened for him the road to every heart. He 
was careful in these discourses never to allow any 
thing to escape him calculated to wound the feelings, 
never to indulge in reproach or invective against his 
adversaries, never to put on an air of triumph at the 
weakness of their logic or the futility of their sys- 
tems. He praised, on the contrary, whatever he 
found in them that was estimable and good, eulo- 
gising in some the austere probity, the uncompro- 
mising morality which they professed, and in others 
the decorum of their churches, and their fidelity in 
observing the day of the Lord. He was attentive 
also to avoid the appearance of controversy or refu- 
tation, because, as he said, in every debate self-love 
always ranges itself on one side or the other, and its 
principle is never to acknowledge defeat; and on that 
account he always anticipated objections by refuting 
them under the form of proof or exposition of his 
subject, without even mentioning them. His mode 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 91 

of proceeding was as follows. He commenced by a 
clear development of the nature of the question, ex- 
plaining with precision the true doctrine of the church, 
and eliminating all the false meanings by which its 
enemies have travestied for the purpose of decrying 
it; and he then presented his proofs in a way so sim- 
ple and so pertinent, with arguments so accessible to 
the most ordinary understandings, that little or no 
effort of the mind was requisite to feel their force. 
He was especially fond of the proofs which speak to 
the heart, and make manifest all the beauty, attrac- 
tiveness, and elevation of the Catholic faith; and more 
than once he experienced the happy effects of that 
predilection. Some examples will furnish an idea of 
his style. On one occasion he had chosen for his 
subject the adoration of the cross; and he began by 
explaining that in this, Jesus Christ is the sole object 
of worship, that his cross is only honoured as the 
image which brings him before our eyes; then, re- 
verting to his theme, " Suppose," said he, " that a 
generous individual seeing you about to fall beneath 
the weapon of an enemy, should throw himself be- 
tween you and the assassin, and save your life by 
the sacrifice of his own; and that a painter, struck 
with this heroic trait, should draw the portrait of your 
preserver, and exhibit him to you bathed in blood 
and covered with wounds: what would you then do? 
You would throw yourself upon it in a transport of 
gratitude and love; you would glue your lips to it; 
you would deluge it with your tears, and your heart 
would almost sink beneath the weight of the feelings 
aroused. My brethren, here is the whole Catholic 
tenet with regard to the homage of the cross. It is 
not for the mind to discuss, it is for the heart to feel 



92 LIFE OF 

all that should be inspired by the image of a God 
who died for the salvation of man." 

On another occasion, when preaching in a Protes- 
tant church, he took for his text the words of our 
Lord, " This is my body, this is my blood." (Matt. 
xxvi. 26, 28.) Upon this he established three points: 
that the real presence of Jesus Christ in the eucharist 
is the most clearly announced dogma in Scripture, 
since human language has no expressions more intel- 
ligible and unequivocal than those employed in re- 
ference to it; the most worthy of God, since it is the 
most touching mystery of love, and nothing could 
be worthier of him than to carry his love for man 
even to the incomprehensible; and finally, the most 
useful, since nothing can be better fitted to make man 
understand the eminent holiness in which he should 
keep his body and his soul, which, by this mystery, 
become the living temple of the divinity. This truth, 
so presented, made a lively impression upon the Pro- 
testants, and M. de Cheverus heard some of them say 
on leaving the church, * We did not think the Catho- 
lics had such strong reasons in support of their be- 
lief." A minister soon after paid him a visit, and 
acknowledging that he was greatly struck by his ser- 
mon, said he had but one objection to make: "If," 
he remarked, "what you have just established be 
true, you should be purer than an angel; you who 
receive every day a God." " At this," said M. de 
Cheverus, when relating the anecdote, " a blush suf- 
fused my face; I lowered my eyes, and was silent." 

Nevertheless, in his various preachings, M. de 
Cheverus remarked that the discussion of particular 
doctrines did little good, because the explanations 
given upon one point always disposed the mind to 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 93 

seek difficulties upon another ; the field of combat 
was changed, but the enemy was always erect with 
his arms in his hand. This was the reason why he 
was always anxious to establish and inculcate in 
every possible mode the necessity of authority to 
fix the faith of the learned as well as of the ignorant; 
that, according to him, was the pivot of the whole 
controversy. To convince Protestants, he often re- 
peated to them in the discourses he delivered from 
their pulpits, the following simple phrase, which al- 
ways produced a strong effect: "Every day, my 
brethren, I read, like you, the Holy Scriptures. I read 
it with reflection and prayer after invoking the Holy 
Spirit, and yet at each page I am arrested by some- 
thing which I cannot understand; I have need of the 
authority of the church to indicate its meaning, and 
fix my faith upon the point." The audience could 
not fail to make the application: " If M. de Cheve- 
rus, who is so much more learned than we are, does 
not understand the whole Gospel, how is it that our 
ministers tell us that "it is for every one of us a rule 
of faith, perfectly clear and intelligible without any 
extrinsic aid?" Thence M. de Cheverus, having 
made them feel that the great majority of men can- 
not decide for themselves upon the details of doctrine, 
would show them divine wisdom coming to the as- 
sistance of human weakness by the institution of a 
teaching authority, which, deriving its origin from 
Jesus Christ and the apostles, has reached our days 
by an uninterrupted series of pastors, professing al- 
ways and every where the same doctrine without 
change. These instructions produced so much effect, 
that a Unitarian minister one day said to him, " I 
agree with you, that the divinity of Christ once ad- 



94 LIFE OF 

mitted, Catholicism is a necessary consequence; and 
if I believed in his divinity, I should be constrained 
by the rules of good logic, to believe in the Roman 
church." The ministers of the different sects, in dis- 
puting among themselves, could easily prove one 
another in the wrong, and almost always finished 
their debates by mutually asking, " By what right 
do you wish me to submit my reason to yours ? If 
I desired to subject my reason to any authority, I 
should embrace the religion of M. de Cheverus; that 
at least has the most imposing authority which exists 
upon earth." 

Besides these discourses addressed to the people, 
M. de Cheverus had often public conferences with 
Protestant ministers, and always came off victorious. 
He pressed his adversaries with irresistible vigour, 
but always with calmness and self-possession, an- 
swered their violence by the force of reason, their 
sneers by language as mild as convincing, and their 
arguments when opposed to good sense, by a piquant 
sally, or instructive raillery. One day, a Methodist 
minister who was arguing with him, undertook, in 
order to prove his position, to collect together a num- 
ber of texts which had no connection with one ano- 
ther, and to deduce from this incoherent jumble, a 
conclusion which he proclaimed with an air of 
triumph. "What have you to reply to that?" he 
cried. " Have you not read in Scripture," asked M. 
de Cheverus, "that Judas hung himself." "Yes," 
said the other. " Well, then," he added laughingly, 
" it is also said in Scripture, Go thou, and do like- 
wise" This retort made the audience laugh, and 
exposed, better than any argument would have done, 
the absurdity of the minister's reasonings, and the 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 95 

strange abuse of the Bible of which he had been 
guilty. It was a general opinion among the Protes- 
tants, that " Bishop Cheverus had more learning than 
their ministers; only," they added, by way of justi- 
fication, "that his knowledge was human and pro- 
fane, while theirs was the science of the Holy Spirit." 
From these discourses and conferences, the Bishop 
gathered the most consoling fruit. Many Protestants 
were not content with merely beholding the truth 
which he presented so clearly to their eyes—they 
openly professed and embraced it. Among these 
conversions there were four especially remarkable : 
the first was that of Mr. Thomas Wally, a citizen of 
Boston, distinguished both for the excellence of his 
mind and his literary attainments, who became an 
honour to the Catholic religion, and presented to the 
world, not only in his own person but in that of his 
spouse and of his numerous family, the most edifying 
model of every Christian virtue. The second was 
that of Mr. Samuel Bishop, a lawyer of Newcastle, 
in the state of Maine. The greatest solemnity was 
given to the ceremony of his abjuration. It occurred 
on a Sunday in August, in the church of St. Patrick, 
at Newcastle. In the presence of a numerous assem- 
blage he pronounced a recantation of his errors, and 
his profession of the Catholic faith; was baptised, 
either because he had not been so before at all, or 
because the manner of his baptism had been such as 
to leave room for doubt; and then received the sacra- 
ments of confirmation and of the Holy Eucharist, 
with a fervour and devotion that made the deepest 
impression upon the beholders. But the conversions 
which gave the greatest delight to M. de Cheverus, 



96 LIFE OP 

were those of two Protestant divines, father and son, 
the former of whom was engaged in the full exercise 
of his functions, the latter confining himself to his 
duties as principal of a college. Their conversion 
was not only a restoration to the Catholic religion; it 
was a solemn profession of all her most rigid and 
sublime recommendations. The parent having re- 
ceived the minor orders and permission to preach, 
would not advance any farther in the ecclesiastical 
state, deeming himself unworthy of its holiness; the 
son, still more fervent, wished to abandon every 
thing for the purpose of following Jesus Christ in the 
path of religious perfection; but he was bound to the 
world by the ties of marriage. He sought assistance 
in prayer, and God was pleased to listen to him. 
His wife became animated with a desire similar to 
his own. They opened their hearts ta one another, 
and she having entered into a convent of the Visita- 
tion, he was admitted into the Society of Jesus, and 
became a zealous and useful priest. The Bishop 
was curious to learn of men so well worthy of confi- 
dence, whether, during the many years they had lived 
in the Protestant faith, they had not had some doubts 
as to its truth and would have died tranquilly in its 
communion, and received an answer well worthy of 
note, that until the day on which he had enlightened 
and instructed them, their convictions had been so 
perfect that it had never occurred to them to doubt, 
and that through his means alone truth had beamed 
upon them for the first time. This instance and many 
others consoled M. de Cheverus, by giving him rea- 
son to believe that numbers of Protestants might be 
in that state of good faith, or invincible ignorance, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 97 

which excuses error in the sight of God;* and he 
came to the conclusion that it was necessary to be 
very indulgent towards those who are mistaken, and 
very cautious in condemning them: "God alone/' 
he was wont to say, "sees the recesses of the heart; 
he alone is the judge of sincerity, and we must leave 
the secret to him." 

In the midst of the solicitudes in which M. de Che- 
verus was involved for the increase and sanctification 
of his flock, he beheld it multiplied beyond his ex- 
pectation by the arrival of numbers of unfortunate 
Frenchmen, whom the colonial insurrections had 
forced to wander from place to place in quest of an 
asylum and livelihood. Many had already taken re- 
fuge at Boston before his arrival there, and many 
had afterwards continued to come, attracted perhaps 
by the fame of his benevolence. Regarding them as 
men in want, as Christians, and unfortunate compa- 

* This " good faith," may be understood with especial ease in a 
country thoroughly imbued with prejudice against the Catholic 
church. The idea of M. de Cheverus on the subject, is entirely con- 
formable to the general teaching of Catholic theologians. St. Augus- 
tin inculcates it, (Lib. iv. De Baptism, Contr. Donat., cap. xvi.) ; and 
the faculty of theology of Paris says, in the same sense, (Censure 
d'Emile, Proposition 32,) that " Many, of whom God alone knows 
the number, although reared in communions separated from the Ca- 
tholic church, are excused in consequence of invincible ignorance of 
their schism or heresy. We do not look upon them as strangers to 
the church out of which there is no salvation. They may firmly be- 
lieve many articles of faith contained in their religions which are 
absolutely sufficient for salvation." Finally, the celebrated Nicole, 
whose proneness to severity of doctrine is well known, says himself, 
(De V Unite de VEglise, lib. 1. c. iii.) u According to all Catholic theo- 
logians, there is a large number of living members and true children 
of the church in the communions separated from her, since there are 
so many children who always form a considerable part of them, and 
they may exist also among adults." 

9 



98 L 1 P E O F 

triots, he welcomed them with all the cordiality 
which their claims upon his kindness could inspire- 
He succoured them, first with his own means, (for he 
always began by stripping himself,) then by such 
alms as he could collect; for he who asked nothing 
on his own account, never hesitated to beg for others; 
and in distributing his charities* his delicacy doubled 
the benefit by the manner in which he bestowed it. 
As these refugees were almost all persons of respec- 
table rank, to whom it would have been a humilia- 
tion to solicit aid, to whom it was painful even to 
receive it, he exerted so much tact in his mode of 
assisting them, that their self-love, instead of suffer- 
ing, was, on the contrary, gratified by the considera- 
tion with which they were treated. He often visited 
them to manifest his regard, but chiefly to ascertain 
that they wanted nothing. In these visits paid to 
misfortune he did not fail to find his reward. Be- 
sides enjoying the delight experience'd by a good 
heart in soothing misery, he sometimes encountered 
a display of the loftiest virtues. Entering one day 
a house which had previously escaped his vigilance, 
he found its occupants in a state of extreme distress. 
Afflicted at the discovery, he reproached himself for 
not having known and relieved their sufferings. 
" You must have passed/' said he, " many sorrowful 
days." "No, sir," replied the father of the family, 
a venerable old man, worthy of the times of the pa- 
triarchs by his piety and his faith, " it is true we 
have been in want, but we were neither sad nor un- 
happy; we had placed our trust in God, who never 
abandons those who hope in him, and we knew that 
his providence would come to our aid." These 
words, so full of pious confidence, uttered in the 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 99 

calm and peaceful tone of virtue, made so lively an 
impression upon M. de Cheverus that he could never 
recall them afterwards without emotion: it was the 
most perfect image of the just man, he said, he had 
ever seen upon earth. But if amongst these victims 
of misfortune he met some individuals of elevated 
virtue, he found also faithless Christians, forgetful of 
their salvation, and reckless about their eternal des- 
tiny. In such cases he would join spiritual to tem- 
poral alms, endeavouring to bring back their wan- 
dering hearts to the practice of religious duties. To 
succeed in his efforts, he would begin by rendering 
virtue attractive in his own person, win the heart by 
dint of kindness, and so manage his counsels, both as 
to occasion and manner, that they wore rather the 
aspect of a friend's advice than the irksome lesson of 
a master or censor; and so mild, so persuasive were 
the out-pourings of his zeal, that to resist them was 
almost impossible. Amongst the refugees was a man 
of a temper so violent, of passions so strong and ter- 
rible, that every one was in dread of him, and seve- 
ral who had ventured to oppose him had fallen vic- 
tims to his rage; otherwise he was a man of elevated 
sentiments, and powerful mind, whose passions only 
required a suitable hand to restrain and direct them. 
M. de Cheverus, whose perception of character was 
remarkable, soon discerned the mixture of good and 
evil which existed in this man, and determined upon 
gaining his affection. The efforts which he made 
for that purpose greatly flattered the other, who wil- 
lingly corresponded to them, so that they soon be- 
came, as it were, bosom friends. The Bishop, once 
master of his heart, moulded it to his will, and in a 
short time the man of wrath was turned into a mild 



100 LIFE OP 

and fervent Christian. In becoming the friend of M. 
de Cheverus he seemed to acquire a new soul, a new 
character, a new life; he always called him by the 
name of father, and behaved towards him with as 
much tenderness and devotion as if he had been the 
author of his days. 

Immense as were the occupations of M. de Cheve- 
rus in his own diocese, he was yet able to minister 
to the wants of other sees. New York, although 
erected into a bishopric, had never had a bishop, in 
consequence of the premature death of the titular 
prelate; and M. de Cheverus for some time supplied 
his place. Whenever the Jesuits, who directed the 
church of New York, thought it useful for the inte- 
rests of religion to call him thither, he immediately 
complied with their summons. One of the most 
solemn ceremonies at which he there officiated, was 
the consecration of the cathedral, a large and beau- 
tiful church of the Gothic order, on the feast of the 
Ascension. The edifice was crowded. He pro- 
nounced a sermon on ihe occasion, which, says a 
New York journal, was marked by fervent eloquence, 
and admirable pertinency. His text was the words 
of the Psalmist, " Lord, I have loved the beauty of 
thy house/ 5 Domine, dilexi decorem domus tuse. 

The zeal of the Bishop of Boston was not confined 
to the different portions of the United States, it em- 
braced the whole earth; it looked to the interests of 
the entire church. We find a signal proof of this 
in a letter which he addressed a few years after his 
consecration, to the Archbishops and Bishops of Ire- 
land. These prelates, afflicted at the persecutions 
with which Bonaparte was harassing the church, 
particularly in the person of its chief, the illustrious 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 101 

Pius VII., whom he had carried off from Rome and 
deprived of his estates, had written to a great num- 
ber of Catholic Bishops for the purpose of coming to 
some general understanding with regard to the course 
to be pursued in such a crisis. M. de Cheverus hav- 
ing received a copy of their letter, sent them an an- 
swer, doubtless in concert with the other Bishops of 
the United States, breathing the most earnest zeal 
for the church and its august head. " We hold," he 
said, " to the Sovereign Pontiff, as the members are 
attached to the head; and, if all the members, accord- 
ing to St. Paul, compassionate the sufferings of the 
least one among them, how much more must the 
miseries of the chief who governs them, produce in 
all commiseration and grief. We weep with you, 
venerable brethren, and we are angry in the Lord; 
with you we pronounce execrable the deed which 
drives an old man from the house of his fathers, per- 
secutes and afflicts an irreproachable Bishop, de- 
prives the church of her patrimony, and overwhelms 
with outrage a Pontiff who has done nothing but 
good. We declare at the same time before God, that 
we will receive with humble respect, the counsels of 
our Holy Father, although held in captivity, and that 
his wishes as well as his commands will always find 
us docile. Nevertheless, we will not hold ourselves 
bound by the letters which may be sent to us as pro* 
ceeding from him, unless it shall be manifest that he 
wrote them in full and perfect liberty ; and should 
he die, which God forbid, in these great perils of the 
church, we will not recognise him whom violence 
and terror shall place in the chair of Peter; we will 
submit only to him whom the great majority of the 
Bishops of the universe, and almost the whole Catho- 

9* 



102 LIFE OP 

lie people shall recognise as the incontestable suc- 
cessor of St. Peter." 

The last part of this letter, whilst displaying the 
enlightened and prudent devotion of the Bishop of 
Boston to the Holy See, exhibits at the same time 
the dread with which the despotism of Bonaparte 
filled the Catholic world. Happily, that Providence 
which calms with a word the tempest, and points out 
to the unfettered billows the grain of sand where 
their rage must cease, arrested in time the course of 
the ambitious emperor, and broke the rod of his 
power. Europe entire rose up to overthrow the co- 
lossus which was trampling it in the dust; the armies 
of the north precipitated themselves upon France; 
Bonaparte fell; sovereigns and people were freed, 
and the head of the church, for so long a time cap- 
tive, returned to the eternal city and resumed the 
exercise of his pacific and salutary sway. An event 
so auspicious for the peace of the world was hailed 
with enthusiasm by the inhabitants of Boston, and a 
public festival was appointed for the purpose of cele- 
brating it; but by no one was it witnessed with more 
joy, by no one celebrated with more ardour, than by 
M. de Cheverus. His delight was equal to the grief 
with which he had been filled by the oppression of 
the church and its chief. Accordingly he performed 
in his church a solemn service of thanks, chanted a 
Te Deum with all possible pomp, and pronounced a 
discourse in which he surpassed himself. Never, 
said the Boston journals, had he been so eloquent, 
so pathetic; it is impossible to describe the transport, 
the song of triumph, with which he proclaimed the 
liberty of an enfranchised world, the disenthralment 
of the church, the cessation of the horrors of war, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 103 

which for so many years had been harassing the na- 
tions, the return of the Bourbons to their throne, the 
universal peace and charity which were about to 
reign and unite all countries of the earth. " These 
effusions/' says a Boston journal, " which he poured 
out in the pulpit with so much eloquence, were with- 
out effort. It was evident that he only abandoned 
himself to the transports' of a heart filled with love 
for mankind, and which suffered or joyed with those 
at a distance, as well as with those who were near." 
In the evening there was an illumination throughout 
the city; and that of the cathedral, particularly of the 
cross, was unrivalled. The Bishop beheld in this 
festival the triumph of religion and of the church, 
and wished to demonstrate the joy which interests so 
dear must excite in every Catholic heart. 

Some time after this event, the American church 
suffered a great loss by the death of its metropolitan, 
Archbishop Carroll; and the loss was the more sen- 
sibly felt from his leaving as his successor an infirm 
old man, destitute of the physical strength requisite 
for the place, and who looked upon himself as already 
upon the brink of the tomb. This was Mr. Neal, the 
coadjutor of the diocese. This venerable old man, 
feeling keenly the embarrassment of his position, re- 
quested the Holy See to associate with him the 
Bishop of Boston, pointing out that prelate as the 
most capable of aiding him as long as he lived in the 
administration of the diocese, and of succeeding him 
after his death. The Sovereign Pontiff lent a favour- 
able ear to the request, but first wished to know how 
he should replace M. de Cheverus at Boston. On re- 
ceiving this answer, Mr. Neal asked M. de Cheverus 
to visit him, for the purpose of conferring upon mat- 



104 LIFE OF 

ters of the greatest importance to the welfare of the 
American church. M. de Cheverus accordingly went 
to him, but was no less afflicted than surprised at 
seeing the letters from Rome. He protested earnest- 
ly against the proposed arrangement, representing to 
the Archbishop .that to take him away from Boston 
would be to sacrifice the church which was rising 
there, as the only priest who knew and was known 
by the people of the diocese was M. Matignon, who 
was now so old and infirm as to be incapable of 
discharging episcopal duties. Mr. Neal finally ac- 
quiesced in his views, and consented that he should 
remain at Boston, proposing, however, another ar- 
rangement to be submitted to the Holy See, viz. that 
he should from time to time visit Baltimore, to give 
the Archbishop the advice, assistance, and consola- 
tion of which he had need; and that, at the death of 
the latter, he should immediately take his place, in 
order that the most important diocese in the country 
should not remain vacant. M. de Cheverus replied, 
that he would obey the Holy See in all things, but 
that he perceived great objections to this new sug- 
gestion, and he used every argument to persuade the 
Archbishop to choose a coadjutor who should be con- 
stantly with him ; indicated several priests of the Je- 
suit order, and proposed M. Marechal, of the order 
of St. Sulpice, who had been spoken of for the See of 
Philadelphia; assuring him that they would all be 
much fitter than himself. The Jesuits refused; M. 
Marechal was unwilling; and in the midst of this 
discussion excited and maintained by modesty, M. 
de Cheverus wrote to Rome to avert the blow with 
which he was threatened. " The church of Boston," 
he said, " has become to me a well-beloved spouse, 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 105 

and I have never had a thought of abandoning her.* 
It is the universal belief, as well as my own, that the 
Catholic religion would suffer great injury by my 
removal and the appointment of a new Bishop, who 
would be unacquainted with and unknown to the 
diocese, however superior his merits to mine. Bal- 
timore has many priests worthier than I am, (I say 
it from the bottom of my soul and before God,) espe- 
cially among the Jesuit fathers, whose excellent qua- 
lities, whose piety, zeal, and indefatigable labours 
are beyond all praise. The seminary of Baltimore 
also offers men of truly apostolical character, two of 
whom have already been raised to the episcopacy, 
and are the delight and glory of the church of the 
United States. I earnestly pray, therefore, that some 
one more worthy than myself may be chosen for the 
coadjutorship of Baltimore." 

Having sent this letter, of which we have only 
transcribed a part, M. de Cheverus left the Arch- 
bishop, begging him to think no more of him, and 
returned to Boston. After much reflection, Mr. Neal 
decided in favour of M. Marechal, and asked his ap- 

* Sponsa facta est mihi dilecta ecclesia Bostoniensis, nee illud un- 
quam in mente habui ut illam desererem. Omnibus persuasum est, 
nee ego dissentire possum, Catholicam religionem multum detrimenti 
capturam esse, si ab hac recesserit ille quem cognoscunt et a quo 
cognoscuntur, et episcopus illis ignotus, meritis licet major, in meum 
locum succedat. Inter sacer dotes diaecesis Baltimorensis plurimos 
meipso valde digniores (ex animo et coram Deo arbitror,) prsesertim 
inter Patris S — I. quorum eximiae dotes, pietas in Deum, zelus et 
labores indefessi nunquam satis commendari possunt. Vere aposto- 
licos habemus quoque in seminario Baltimorensi sacerdotes S. Sul- 
pitii ; ex eorum sodalitio assumptis duobus episcopis gaudet jam et 
gloriatur fcederatae Americae ecclesia. Ut alius dignior eligatur 
enixe precor. 



106 LIFE OP 

pointment to the coadjutorship. As soon as M. de 
Cheverus was informed of this fact, he wrote a second 
time to Rome, expressing his satisfaction, and begging 
never to be separated from his beloved church at Bos- 
ton. " My heart," he said, " suffered much from the 
fear that the obedience which I owe and will always 
pay to the Holy See, would force me to abandon my 
flock. But to apprehension and anxiety peace and 
happiness have succeeded, since I learnt the nomina- 
tion of M. Marechal to the coadjutorship of Balti- 
more. Now I beg, I pray, I beseech, that I may ne- 
ver be transferred to another see; that I may be per- 
mitted to consecrate all my cares to my small but 
very dear flock, to sacrifice for it all that I have and 
all that I am. I rejoice to see M. Marechal perform- 
ing the episcopal functions there, where he and his 
brethren of St. Sulpice have been the masters and 
models of the clergy, and have conciliated universal 
regard." 

Free from all disquietude, living only for his be- 
loved church, M. de Cheverus continued tranquilly 
to prosecute his useful and important labours. Hear- 
ing that the Archbishop was about to send two Je- 
suit fathers, his friends, to Rome on affairs of the 
diocese, he gave them a letter for the Holy See, in 
which his affection for them was thus warmly ex- 
pressed. " I learn," he says, " that the venerable 
Father Grassy is about to set out for Rome ; his pure 
lips will inform you of the true state of our church. 
I entertain the profoundest veneration for this father, 
a sentiment which I cherish in common with all the 
other Bishops and ecclesiastics to whom piety is 
dear. His companion is Father F., whom I have 
the happiness of counting among my most intimate 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 107 

friends. We earnestly pray that these two excellent 
men may speedily return, accompanied by new la- 
bourers of the society to which they belong. The 
Jharvest here is abundant, the labourers few, and we 
need men like those which the Society of Jesus can 
furnish; they truly are ministers who do honour to 
the church, and dispense as it should be dispensed, 
the word of truth." 

M. de Cheverus was not less fond of the priests of 
St. Sulpice than of the Jesuit brethren. He was in- 
timate with all the directors of the seminary at Balti- 
more,* but especially with the superior, Mr. Nagot, 
whom he loved as a father, and revered as a saint. 
He used in after days to take pleasure in relating 
how that venerable old man, who was anxious to 
resign his post of superior in order to devote himself 
entirely to his salvation, begged him to arrange the 
matter with the Archbishop, and come and instal his 
successor. He did both, and was equally touched 
and edified by the humility of the good old gentle- 
man, who as soon as his successor was proclaimed, 
threw himself upon his knees before him to promise 
him obedience, and solicit his blessing. M. de Che- 
verus also corresponded with the Sulpitians of Mon- 
treal, in Canada; and great as was the distance, he 
made several journeys to do them service, and me- 
diate between them and a powerful personage who 
was hostile to them. He was desirous also of hav- 
ing some of them with him in Boston, in order to aid 
in forming priests for his diocese, where there were 
very few. But this not being feasible, and wanting 
all the means of establishing a seminary for clergy- 
men according to the wish of the council of Trent, 
he made choice of several intelligent and virtuous 



108 LIFE OF 

young men who appeared fit for the ecclesiastical 
state, took them into his house, gave them lessons, 
and causing them to attend him in the performance 
of all the functions of his ministry, taught them at 
the same time both theory and practice. He in- 
structed them in singing, in the ceremonies, in 
preaching; and thus, while he had the consolation of 
securing good priests for the future to the church, he 
gained also the advantage of imparting more majesty 
and splendour to the exercises of religion. Nothing 
could be more agreeable than this establishment in 
the episcopal house ; every thing was conducted in 
it by rule, but at the same time by affection. The 
pupils feared to displease, because they loved, their 
preceptor; they anticipated all his wishes, from the 
happiness they felt in doing any thing satisfactory to 
so excellent a master; and this attachment did not 
end with the period of clerical education. More than 
four years afterwards, several young ecclesiastics 
made the voyage from Boston to Bordeaux for the 
sole purpose of visiting their former master; and 
when the time for their return arrived, it might have 
been supposed they were leaving a parent, from the 
sorrow they displayed. 

Whilst thus engaged in forming co-labourers in his 
ministry, the Bishop embarked in an enterprise of the 
greatest importance. Hitherto there had not been in 
his diocese a single Catholic establishment for the 
education of youth, so that Catholic parents were 
obliged either to educate their children themselves, 
which was impossible for a great number, or to send 
them to Protestant schools, where they were imbued 
with errors and prejudices against their religion. He 
was eager to provide a remedy for this evil, and open 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 109 

a fountain where they might at the same time im- 
bibe holy doctrines, and drink of the waters of world- 
ly knowledge; but the undertaking was surrounded 
with difficulties. It was a work of devotion which 
offered little inducement as far as the present life was 
concerned. A religious community could alone un- 
dertake it and give sufficient guarantees for its stabi- 
lity. But how bring nuns to Boston, and what 
would be said of them there? Would a place so 
filled with prejudice against monastic vows, permit 
the establishment of a cloister ? Finally, how were a 
house and the necessary resources for the existence 
of the society to be procured? These difficulties, 
however, did not discourage the Bishop, and his per- 
severance overcame them all. He made application 
to a convent of Ursulines, celebrated for their skill in 
the education of children, and obtained a colony 
from them; he then called upon the generosity of his 
congregation, and procured the funds requisite for 
the purchase of a house and the support of the nuns. 
On the morning after the arrival of the Ursulines, 
the journals of the city were busy with the event, 
and manifested feelings in regard to it, if not altoge- 
ther hostile in consequence of their respect for the 
Bishop, at least not very friendly. M. de Cheverus 
replied to their remarks the following day, showing 
that an association of twelve persons, who were 
pleased to live together in the same house without 
going out of it, was the most innocent act possible in 
the eyes of the law, and that to interfere with them 
would be a violation of private right. Not a word 
was afterwards uttered against the institution; it 
soon had a large number of pupils; and Protestants 
themselves, satisfied with the good education re- 

10 



110 LIFE OP 

ceived there, confided their children to the care of 
the good ladies.* 

So great was the influence of M. de Cheverus, that 
as soon as it was known he approved of any thing, 
all opposition to it ceased. Some monks of the order 
of La Trappe, who had been driven from their coun- 
try by the revolution and had heard of his exalted po- 
sition, sought his protection in order to re-establish in 
his diocese their scattered community. He welcomed 
them with his wonted kindness, lodged them in his 
house, fed them at his table, and offered them every 
aid in the accomplishment of their object, annexing, 
however, a condition that they should modify their 
rules in some respects which he deemed incompati- 
ble with the rigour of the climate ;t but this the good 
monks were unwilling to do, and they accordingly 
removed to another country. 

Notwithstanding the universal consideration which 
he enjoyed, and the gratifying success he had ex- 
perienced, the days of M. de Cheverus began to 
pass sorrowfully. For some time he had observed 
that his excellent friend, M. Matignon, was rapidly, 
hastening to the tomb, and the idea of losing him 
was a cause of grief which increased with his sick- 
ness, and which only those could appreciate who 
knew M. de Cheverus, and understood the affec- 
tionate character of his heart. On the 19th of Sep- 
tember, 1818, a day marked out for him in the de- 
signs of Providence as a day of sorrow, he was call- 

* In 1834, this convent was set on fire and burnt to the ground, 
in the night, by a mob, and the incendiaries were acquitted by the 
tribunals of justice! 

t He thought particularly that the office of the night could not be 
performed in a country where the cold is so severe. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. Ill 

ed upon to exert all his fortitude in administering the 
last sacraments to his friend, in assisting him in his 
agony, and closing his eyes. In the midst of his 
grief, his strength of mind did not abandon him. 
Very different from those friends, who hearkening 
only to the dictates of sorrow, and deaf to the inspi 
rations of faith, fly from the funerals of those whom 
they love, he determined to preside at the obsequies 
of his beloved companion, and celebrate them with 
a solemnity unknown in the place. The body was 
carried in procession through the streets amidst 
hymns of wo, and he himself, with his mitre on his 
head, followed the coffin, attended by his congrega- 
tion. The inhabitants respected the ceremony, how- 
ever unusual in their eyes, honouring by their silence 
and the perfect order they preserved, the grief of M. 
de Cheverus and the memory of his friend. The 
ensuing day, all the journals of the city, far from say- 
ing aught against the ceremonial, tendered their 
thanks to M. de Cheverus for having augured so 
well of the good spirit of the inhabitants of Boston, 
and known how to appreciate the sentiments of re- 
verence which they felt for his departed associate. 
It is difficult to describe the effect of this honourable 
conduct upon M. de Cheverus. The trait remained 
engraved upon his heart as one of the most touching 
testimonials of affection he ever received from the 
people of Boston. 

From that day, however, M. de Cheverus seemed 
to bid adieu to happiness. The remembrance of M. 
Matignon was a constant source of grief; he felt as 
it were, deserted and alone, although surrounded by 
friends who cherished him; he was obliged to en- 
counter a great increase of labour thrown upon him 



112 LIFE OF 

by the death of his associate; and in addition, an 
asthma from which he had long suffered, began to 
make alarming progress. Nevertheless he would not 
refuse any labour that presented itself; he attended 
to every thing, multiplying himself, as it were, in or- 
der to answer every demand. He ordained two of 
his pupils, that they might supply his place at Bos- 
ton whilst he was absent on his apostolical journeys; 
and, as in his days of perfect health, he visited, every 
year, the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy tribes, and 
even built them a church upon the bank of their 
river. During the rigours of winter and the heats 
of summer, he was seen, as usual, hastening where- 
ever he was needed, wherever there were sick to at- 
tend, or sufferers to console. So much labour soon 
produced a serious effect upon his health, and in- 
creased his asthma to a most harassing degree. The 
physicians at length told him that the only means of 
saving his life was to remove to a milder atmosphere, 
and that the severity of the climate of Boston would, 
in a few years, consign him to his grave; but in spite 
of their advice, in spite of the natural desire of see- 
ing again his family and his native land, in spite of 
the gloom which the death of M. Matignon had 
spread over his residence at Boston, he would not 
quit his post. Religion had placed him there; reli- 
gion kept him there; and he was resolved upon dying 
in the country of his adoption. He even designated 
the spot for his grave, by the side of his departed 
friend, and awaited tranquilly the moment when God 
should call him to himself. 

But something worse than death for a disposition 
like his, occurred — a malady which disabled him 
from complying with the demands for his services 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 113 

The evils which this event was likely to entail upon 
his flock, caused him at last to think of yielding his 
place to another more able to discharge its duties, and 
to retire within the bosom of his family, there to ter- 
minate an existence which he deemed near its end. 
He disclosed his views to some friends, who pressed 
him to carry his design into effect. Feeling, how- 
ever, the seriousness of the step, he would not be pre- 
cipitate, and for three years he allowed the thought 
to sleep within his bosom, until, in the beginning of 
1823, he received a letter from the Prince de Croy, 
Grand Almoner of France, announcing his nomina- 
tion to the bishopric of Montauban. M. Hyde de 
Neuville, minister from France to the United States, 
who had perceived with regret the alteration in his 
health, and'was convinced from the opinion of his 
physicians, that a milder climate would restore him 
and preserve a life so valuable to religion, had spoken 
of his merits to the king on returning to Paris, for 
the purpose of having him recalled and restored to 
the country to which he belonged by birth. Louis 
XVIII. entering earnestly into the views of his en- 
voy, immediately named M. de Cheverus to the 
bishopric of Montauban, and directed the Grand Al- 
moner to notify him of the circumstance. The letter 
written by that personage was of the most urgent 
kind. " I have every reason to believe," he said, 
" that Divine Providence has ordained these events 
for his own glory and the good of the church. His 
majesty, counting upon your eagerness to respond to 
the confidence he reposes in your piety, upon your 
zeal and your devotion to his person, would see with 
satisfaction your immediate departure for Europe." 
The Prince de Croy, himself, urged him to set out 

10* 



114 LIFE OP 

without delay, adding that the nuncio of the Pope 
at Paris, would attend at once to his regular release 
from the bishopric of Boston, and the canonical ar- 
rangements for his new see. The first sensation ex- 
perienced by M. de Cheverus on the reception of so 
unexpected a letter was that of surprise, but this 
soon gave way to conflicting feelings, which threw 
him into a state of the most violent agitation. The 
thought of revisiting his family, which at first was so 
delightful, no longer presented itself to him under the 
same smiling aspect, now that he was about to pass 
from design to execution ; the love of his country, 
the will of the king, the difficulty of continuing to 
exercise his functions in Boston, all combined to 
plead in favour of France ; but his cherished flock 
whom he must abandon, the religion to which he 
felt that, in spite of his infirmities, he might still be 
useful, his disconsolate brethren who were eager to 
follow him wherever he went, his convent whose 
existence his departure would peril, the regret he 
would awaken, these considerations spoke still more 
loudly to his heart. So fierce was the struggle, that 
for some days he did nothing but weep and pray 
without being able to come to any decision. In this 
painful condition he consulted the Archbishop of 
Baltimore and the Sulpitians of Montreal, particu- 
larly their superior, M. Roux, in whom he had the 
greatest confidence. Their unanimous opinion was 
that he ought to remain. This was enough to de- 
cide him; and he forthwith wrote to the Grand Al- 
moner to express his gratitude, and explain the rea- 
sons of his refusal, which were the same as he had 
formerly given to the Holy See to prevent his trans- 
lation to the archbishopric of Baltimore. " For these 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 115 

reasons," he said, " M. Marechal was appointed in 
my stead, and the church of Baltimore was the gainer 
by it; another nomination, which I pray you to make, 
will procure the same advantage for the church of 
Montauban. If his majesty permits me, as I be- 
seech him to do, to remain here longer, this establish- 
ment will be confirmed; my flock and all the inhabi- 
tants of Boston will bless the name of the king of 
France. They see every day in my dwelling his 
portrait, by the side of that of his martyred brother, 
and they would wish to owe to him the prolonga- 
tion of my stay. They know that the kings of France 
have always been disposed to favour missions, as has 
been so well said in the ninth chapter of the fourth 
book of the Genius of Christianity, which I have 
translated and read to them from the pulpit. May 
I presume to hope that his majesty will pardon 
me for doing what I believe, before God, to be my 
duty." 

This letter and its purport soon came to the know- 
ledge of the people of Boston, who were all distress- 
ed at the idea of losing a pastor so beloved; and to 
insure its success, more than two hundred of the 
principal Protestant inhabitants of the city joined to 
it their entreaties and representations.* 

Their letter, so honourable to M. de Cheverus, was 
sent to Paris at the same time as his own; but neither 
the one nor the other restored tranquillity to his 
breast. The sacrifice he wished to make of France 
was a wound that continued to bleed; and at the 
same time he feared that the king would reiterate 
his desires in a mode that would constrain him to 

* See Additions. — TV. 



116 LIFE OF 

obey. " My heart is torn in pieces," he wrote to M. 
de Neuville, "but I deem myself obliged, for the 
good of religion and the honour of the French name, 
not to abandon my post. If you had witnessed the 
conflicts I have experienced, if you knew exactly my 
position, and that of my diocese, you would pardon, 
I am sure, my refusal. I have detailed the reasons 
which prompt my conduct, in my letter to the Grand 
Almoner; and I shall be unhappy until T learn that 
they have been found sufficient." The king, how- 
ever, would not accept his refusal, and directed the 
Grand Almoner to insist upon his prompt return to 
France. In this epistle three considerations were en- 
forced for his obedience: First, the express will of the 
king, who now called him a second time to the ad- 
ministration of the diocese of Montauban. Second, the 
reasons of health which had previously caused him 
to think of returning to France; and, " I am inform- 
ed," the letter added, " that these reasons are still the 
same." Third, the existing condition of the French 
clergy. " Being so far from us, you can have no 
exact idea of our situation, of the feebleness of our 
resources after so long a trial, and the paucity of in- 
dividuals fit for the higher stations in the church. I 
have consequently regarded your return as a kind- 
ness of Providence, and a consolation he deigns to 
bestow upon me in the midst of my anxieties." The 
writer finished by mentioning the great affliction his 
refusal had occasioned, the displeasure which the 
king would feel if his wishes were disregarded, and 
the evidence he ought to perceive of the will of hea- 
ven in the concurrence of circumstances which called 
for his return. 

Such representations M. de Cheverus did not deem 






ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 117 

it possible to resist. He thought he saw in them the 
will of God, the more especially as his physicians 
assured him that his health could not stand another 
winter in Boston. He decided, therefore, upon go- 
ing, but not without the most painful emotions. To 
leave Boston was like tearing his soul asunder; it 
was a species of death, and thus, as if the day of his 
departure was to be a day of dissolution, he deter- 
mined previously, as he expressed it, to make his 
will He gave to the diocese, the church, the epis- 
copal residence, and the Ursuline convent, of which 
he held the proprietorship; to the bishops, his suc- 
cessors, he left his library, which was composed of 
the best works, and was the object of his particular 
affection ; and all else that belonged to him he distri- 
buted among his clergy, his friends, and the poor ; 
and, as he had come poor to Boston, so he resolved 
to go from it, without any other goods than the same 
trunk which he had brought with him twenty-seven 
years before. He wanted even to leave his chalice, 
cruets, and cross, and only resolved upon taking 
them on account of their being family articles. 

On beholding him thus despoil himself the inhabi- 
tants of Boston were greatly affected, and many of 
them manifested their feelings by the most generous 
acts. One amongst other remarkable traits, was that 
of a grocer, who, by many years of labour and eco- 
nomy, had amassed a little fortune of six thousand 
francs. This the worthy man brought to M. de Che- 
verus, begging him to accept it, " for," said he, " after 
you have stripped yourself for us, I fear that you 
will be tn want yourself; and were I to suspect that 
such was the case, the idea would render me un- 
happy through life." M. de Cheverus had great 



118 LITE OF 

difficulty in causing his refusal to be accepted, whilst 
the tears by which it was accompanied bespoke the 
warmth of his thanks. Feeling the same fear as the 
generous individual just spoken of, the principal in- 
habitants of Boston, Protestants as well as Catholics, 
raised by subscription a considerable sum, and went 
in a body to M. de Cheverus to inform him that it 
was at his disposal, that he might at once employ it 
as his own, or draw upon it subsequently as he chose, 
and that they would never suffer it to be exhausted 
any more than their gratitude. A proceeding so ge- 
nerous touched him to the soul, but at the same time 
only increased his sorrow at quitting such excellent 
and devoted friends. From all sides poured in upon 
him regrets, adieus, and sentiments of regard, which 
were so many new wounds to his heart. " Oh ! my 
God," wrote the Archbishop of Baltimore, " what 
will become of the church of America? Although 
placed at a great distance from me, you were, next 
to God, my firmest support. Will it be possible for 
me to govern my province after your departure ?" 
The Protestant journals were full of the same lamen- 
tations. "This worthy prelate," they said, "has 
passed nearly thirty years among us, and during that 
whole period, has inspired all classes with the utmost 
confidence and respect. The amenity of his man- 
ners, as a man of the world, his talents, his good- 
ness as a Bishop, his pure and apostolical life, have 
been the constant theme of eulogium ; we deplore his 
loss as a public calamity." All bewailed the loss of 
so excellent a pastor, even to the gaoler of the prison, 
who went to him to bid him farewell, and say that 
he would never forget his kindness to the prisoners 
under his charge. The Catholics, as may be easily 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 119 

imagined, were not the last to express their grief. 
They gave vent to it in a touching address, to which 
M. de Cheverus made at once a most affectionate 
reply. * 

The Sunday before his departure he preached his 
farewell sermon, to an audience as large as the church 
could by any possibility contain, giving his last coun- 
sels to his flock, and thanking them and the Pro- 
testants, of whom there were numbers among his 
hearers, for the kindness with which they had treat- 
ed him during his sojourn at Boston. Nothing could 
be more affecting than the whole scene. The ten- 
derest sentiments prompted the words of the orator 
and trembled in the tones of his voice; whilst the 
audience manifested every sign of the truest and 
deepest emotion. Tears and sobs in all parts of the 
church, announced that the holiest and dearest ties 
were about to be dissolved. 

At the moment of his departure M. de Cheverus 
received another most flattering testimony of affec- 
tion and respect. More than three hundred vehicles 
were collected to escort him out of the city, and ac- 
companied him for several leagues upon the road to 
New York, where he was to embark. At length it 
became necessary to separate, and warm were the 
adieus, and bitter the regrets, with which the parting 
was marked. 

Thus was effected this painful separation; but their 
hearts were not severed. M. de Cheverus left behind 
a name ever living, a reputation every glorious for 
the church. The reader will see with satisfaction 
how he was spoken of many years afterwards, by a 

* For the Address and Reply see the Additions. — TV. 



120 LIFE OF 

Protestant minister, Dr. Channing, in a review of the 
life of Fenelon. " Has not the metropolis of New- 
England witnessed a sublime example of Christian 
virtue in a Catholic Bishop ? Who, among our reli- 
gious teachers, would solicit a comparison between 
himself and the devoted Cheverus ? This good man, 
whose virtues and talents have now raised him to 
high dignities in church and state, who now wears 
in his own country the joint honours of an Arch- 
bishop and a peer, lived in the midst of us, devoting 
his days and nights, and his whole heart, to the ser- 
vice of a poor and uneducated congregation. We ; 
saw him declining, in a great degree, the society of 
the cultivated and refined, that he might be the friend 
of the ignorant and friendless; leaving the circles of 
polished life, which he would have graced, for the 
meanest hovels; bearing, with a father's sympathy, 
the burdens and sorrows of his large spiritual family; 
charging himself alike with their temporal and spiri- 
tual concerns ; and never discovering, by the faintest 
indication, that he felt his fine mind degraded by his 
seemingly humble office. This good man, bent on 
his errands of mercy, was seen in our streets under 
the most burning sun of summer, and the fiercest 
storms of winter, as if armed against the elements by 
the power of charity. He has left us, but not to be 
forgotten. He enjoys among us what to such a man 
must be dearer than fame. His name is cherished 
where the great of this world are unknown. It is 
pronounced with blessings, with grateful tears, with 
sighs for his return, in many an abode of sorrow and 
want." 

From these magnificent eulogiums, the writer 
draws inferences which it is important to remark. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 121 

& And how can \ve shut our hearts against this proof 
of the power of the Catholic religion to form good 

and great men ?" "It is time that greater justice 

were done to this ancient and wide spread commu- 
nity. The Catholic church has produced some of the 
greatest and best men that ever lived, and this is 
proof enough of its possessing all the means of sal- 
vation," 

Such was the reputation, glorious to religion and 
the church, which was left by M. de Cheverus in 
America, and which sufficiently explains the regrets 
his departure excited, and the honours with which it 
was attended. He embarked at New York on the 
first of October, accompanied by a French ecclesias- 
tic, M. Morainvilie, who for a long time had been 
exercising the ministry in the United States, but was 
now forced by bad health to return to Europe. 
Among the passengers were men of all denomina- 
tions of religion, and some of no religion at all, but 
M. de Cheverus charmed them all so much by the 
suavity and blandness of his deportment, that they 
besought him to preach to them; and every Sunday, 
throughout the passage, he said prayers and read the 
Bible for them, with such instructions as he thought 
appropriate. He was listened to with universal at- 
tention and respect; and all, accustomed as they had 
been to hate the Catholic religion, were surprised to 
hear themselves called by the epithet of beloved 
brethren, an epithet which that religion, which is a 
religion of love, teaches should be given to all man- 
kind. Sometimes he even preached to them during 
the week, bringing ever to their minds that Creator 
"whose eyes were following them across the vast 
solitude of the seas." Providence, indeed, gave 

11 



122 LIFE OF 

proof that he accompanied them. The voyage was 
prosperous in the extreme until they reached the 
English channel, when they were suddenly assailed 
by a tremendous storm, just as they were flattering 
themselves with the hope of arriving the next day at 
Havre. The captain, after struggling for a long time 
against the fury of the winds and waves, finding all 
his efforts useless, and the ship, which had lost her 
rudder, driving upon the rocks that line the coast, in- 
formed the Bishop of the danger, selecting him as the 
firmest hearted among the passengers, and the best 
fitted to animate their courage. " There are a thou- 
sand chances to one," said he, " that we will be lost." 
The danger soon became imminent; the vessel was 
abreast of two rocks between which there was a nar- 
row passage; the captain hesitated, not knowing 
what to do; for fifteen hours they had been fluctuat- 
ing betwixt life and death, and night was now about 
to wrap them in its terrors. In his despair, he deter- 
mined upon attempting the passage, and running 
upon shore at every risk. The measure was an ex- 
treme one, but no other seemed feasible. He dis- 
closed his intention to M. de Cheverus, who told the 
passengers to prepare themselves for every event, 
heard the confessions of the Catholics and gave them 
absolution, and invited all to join with him in prayer 
to the Sovereign Master of life and death. The ves- 
sel rushed onwards; a fearful crash was heard; it 
had struck upon the rock, and through its broken 
sides the waves were pouring in; all deemed them- 
selves lost; but the passage was effected, there was 
little sea where the ship had stranded, and the dan- 
ger was at an end. The captain threw himself upon 
the neck of the Bishop, exclaiming that his prayers 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 123 

had saved their lives. Many of the passengers 
swooned with excess of surprise and joy at this 
escape from the very jaws of death. M. de Cheve- 
rus took them up in his arms, carried them to the 
shore, and no accident happened to any one. What 
is remarkable, of all the vessels that were overtaken 
by the tempest in the same place, this was the only 
one saved. All the rest were entirely lost, with both 
freight and crew. Having thus been rescued from 
destruction in a manner which he himself called 
miraculous,* he landed upon the shores of France, 
thirty-one years after he had left them- 

* u God has saved us in a miraculous manner," he wrote to his 
family on the 3d November of this year. 



124 



BOOK III. 

FROM THE RETURN OF M. DE CHEVERUS TO FRANCE IK 
1823, TO THE REVOLUTION OF JULY 1830. 

France at length recovered M. de Cheverus ; and 
not less delightful to all those who knew him was 
the intelligence of his arrival, than lively the emotion 
he experienced on again beholding his native land. 
He forthwith repaired to Auderville, where was the 
nearest church, to celebrate the festival of All Saints, 
which occurred on the day after his arrival. Ex- 
hausted by fatigue, he could only say low mass; but 
the following day, Sunday, he officiated at high mass* 
and preached at vespers. On Monday he received 
the visits of the clergy of the neighbourhood, who 
hastened to pay their respects to a prelate so revered. 
On Tuesday he set out for Cherbourg. In all the 
parishes upon the road, he was welcomed with every 
honour, and obliged to stop from time to time for the 
gratification of the pastors and people, who were 
eager to obtain his blessing. Having reached Cher- 
bourg towards evening, he went to a convocation of 
the clergy of the diocese, which happened to be sit- 
ting at the moment. On his introduction into the 
hall of conference, the assemblage in the first impulse 
of respect and joy, threw themselves upon their knees 
to receive his benediction. It would be impossible to 
depict the emotions he must have felt at thus finding 
himself for the first time for thirty years in so numer- 
ous an assemblage of French ecclesiastics, many of 



LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 125 

whom had been his companions in exile, and seeing 
them all upon their knees before him! With tears in 
his eyes he blessed and embraced them with all the 
fervor of his sensitive nature. 

The news of his arrival was quickly spread through- 
out Cherbourg, and immediately the Viscount de Con- 
iilac, the Governor, and the Marquis de Frotte, the 
Sub-prefect, with all the authorities and clergy of 
the town, hastened to visit him. The first offered 
him, not in his own name, but, which was much 
more delicate, in that of the king, Louis XVIII. 
every pecuniary assistance he might need in conse- 
quence of his shipwreck. Having, however, as much 
as he absolutely required for the expenses of his jour- 
ney, he declined the offer, notwithstanding the friend- 
ly earnestness with which it was pressed. It was 
easier to overcome him on another point. The in- 
habitants of the city were very desirous to hear him 
preach, and begged him to comply with their wishes. 
The request at first embarrassed him, as with the ex- 
ception of his recent sermon at Auderville, he had not 
preached in French for thirty years more than twice 
or thrice in his journeys to Canada, and the language 
had become so foreign, as it were, to him, that he 
feared to trust himself before a numerous audience. 
Not willing, however, to disappoint those who had 
shown him so much kindness, he went into the pul- 
pit, and, save a few anglicisms which escaped him, 
accomplished the task with as much ease and facility 
of elocution as if he had never intermitted the use of 
his maternal tongue. 

From Cherbourg he travelled directly to Paris. 
There having offered his homage to the king, who 

received him with especial favor, he found himself 

11* 



126 LIFE OF 

overwhelmed with visits and attentions of every sort. 
His former companions of Louis-le-Grand, his college 
and seminary friends, were equally eager to celebrate 
his return; and various churches and religious insti- 
tutions besieged him with solicitations to preach for 
them. At the seminary of St. Nicholas he was com- 
plimented in Latin by the pupils, and replied in the 
same language with that purity of style and graceful- 
ness of thought, which thirty years before had gained 
him so much admiration at the Sorbonne. Being in- 
vited to preside at a religious ceremony at the Semi- 
nary of Issy, on the 21st of November, he addressed 
the pupils with his wonted piety and zeal ; and at 
the association of St. Joseph for indigent labourers, 
he spoke to industrious poverty the words of conso- 
lation and useful advice. 

The pleasure enjoyed by M. de Cheverus in again 
seeing so many persons and places endeared to him, 
was cruelly marred by an event which carried the 
deepest affliction to his heart. A sister to whom he 
was peculiarly attached (Madam George, of whom 
we spoke in the beginning of this work) and whom 
he was hoping to meet and embrace once more, was 
taken away from this life full of merit and good 
works. Severe as was the blow, he supported it 
with resignation and fortitude, and soon after set out 
for Mayenne, his native place. He delayed entering 
the town until evening in order to escape the honors of 
a reception; but he had scarcely set his foot within its 
precincts, when the news flew about in every direc- 
tion. The ringing of a bell announced it to all the 
inhabitants; a spontaneous illumination burst upon 
his path, and a multitude crowding around him with 
torches in their hands and uttering exclamations of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERTTS. 127 

delight, escorted him to his brother's house. The 
next day, the clergy wishing to make up for the pri- 
vation of the previous evening, went in procession to 
the Bishop, and conducted him under the canopy to 
the church, clothed in his pontifical habiliments, and 
then complimented him before the principal door, ap- 
plying to him the words of the Jewish people to Ju- 
dith, " Thou art the glory of our nation," Tu honor- 
ijicentia populi nostri. A solemn Te Deum was 
sung in thanks for his happy return, and after the 
ceremony all the authorities of the town called to pay 
their respects. Various addresses were delivered to 
him, to which he made the most gracious and perti- 
nent replies. 

Two days afterwards he preached in the church of 
Notre-Da?ne. The Curate of the parish, M. Souge, 
who had been his friend in childhood, and the com- 
panion of his exile some time in England, had died a 
few days before, and he was anxious to honor his 
memory by a funeral discourse. It was his lot to 
eulogize a priest in whom it was difficult to say 
which predominated, virtue or talent; and he did it 
with all the interest inspired by the subject, and all 
the sensibility of an affectionate heart, which ex- 
pected to embrace a friend, and encountered only his 
cold remains. Such was the satisfaction his sermon 
afforded, that he was incessantly called upon after- 
wards to preach, which he did with indefatigable 
zeal and the most salutary effects. The churches 
were thronged to hear him, and many who had pre- 
viously affected to despise the words of truth, appear- 
ed to delight in hearing them from his lips. 

To this work of preaching, M. de Cheverus, as 
apostolical at Mayenne as at Boston, joined various 



128 LIFE OF 

other labors. He re-established peace and harmony 
in several families, caused divisions to cease, and 
brought about numerous reconciliations. He was 
every where to be found where good was to be 
done. The sisters of the visitation, the sick in the 
hospital, the convicts in the prison, all shared in his 
counsels and benevolence. Being informed one day 
that a priest who had been faithless to his vows, 
was willing to receive a visit from him, he repaired 
to his residence, conversed with him upon his condi- 
tion, and at the end of several conferences, had the 
happiness of seeing him open his eyes to the light, 
and make his peace with God and the church. This 
conversion was the prelude to another still more dear 
to his heart. There was a physician at Mayenne, 
an honorable man according to the world, and 
a believer in the truths of religion, but who was 
unhappily little solicitous about the performance of 
its duties. He fell dangerously sick; no one dared 
to speak to him about sending for a priest. M. de 
Cheverus was informed of the circumstance, and 
given to understand that if he would deign to visit 
the sufferer, although unknown to him, the attention 
would flatter him, and be perhaps a means of disposing 
him to receive the last sacraments, and die a christian 
death. The Bishop complied with the intimation; 
called upon the sick man, and spoke to him in that 
affectionate and winning way which no one could 
resist. Grateful for his kindness, and touched by his 
exhortations, the physician at length begged him to 
hear his confession, and received the sacraments with 
every manifestation of the truest piety. Happy in- 
fluence of religion, to console and sustain the depart- 
ing soul ! From that moment the sick man, who had 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 129 

previously appeared troubled and gloomy, became 
tranquil and calm ; and up to the time of his death 
never ceased to bless Heaven for sending him an 
angel who had opened for him the gates of Paradise. 
M. de Cheverus overjoyed at so sincere a return to 
God, attached himself to his convert as to a friend 
gained upon the verge of the tomb, and always ad- 
verted to the event as the sweetest recollection which 
he carried with him from Mayenne. 

Whilst the Bishop in the bosom of his family, was 
thus devoting himself to his good works, he received 
a letter from the Grand Almoner which called him 
immediately to Paris. The Bishops of the United 
States, dismayed at the great loss the church in that 
country would suffer if M. de Cheverus should re- 
main in France, had written to Rome to supplicate 
the Holy See not to permit so great an evil. The 
Sovereign Pontiff had in consequence asked the king 
to make another nomination for Montauban, and 
also wrote to M. de Cheverus himself to request him 
to return to Boston. "When I think," he said, "of 
what advantage your labors have been to the Ameri^ 
can church, what grace the Holy Spirit has bestowed 
upon you, not only for the solid establishment and in- 
crease of the Catholic faith in the diocese of Boston, 
but also for the benefit of the church in the other dio- 
ceses of the United States, and the acquisition of the 
esteem of Protestants themselves, I cannot dissemble 
from you my fear that your translation will prove an 
immense detriment to the American church." This 
letter threw M. de Cheverus into the most painful 
agitation. On one side he was anxious to obey the 
Holy See, and Boston was ever living in his heart: 
but on the other, he saw a thousand difficulties in the 



130 LIFE OF 

way of retracing his steps. These he mentioned in a 
respectful answer, representing that his infirm health 
could no longer bear the fatigues of so laborious a 
mission nor the severity of a climate so rigorous, and 
that he possessed nothing either in Boston, where he 
had given away all he owned before his departure, 
nor in France, where he had no estate, and that he 
was in total want of the means requisite even for the 
voyage. He therefore prayed His Holiness, not to 
name him for Montauban, which he had never de- 
sired, but to accept his resignation of the See of Bos- 
ton, and permit him to finish in the bosom of his 
family, an existence which he deemed near its end; 
or if this were not expedient, to give him for coadju- 
tor an ecclesiastic whom he designated, adding that 
His Holiness when better informed by experience in 
regard to a provisory administration, could at some 
future day pronounce upon the necessity of his re- 
turn, and that he would always be found ready to 
obey. The Court of France joined its representa- 
tions to his request, and the Pope insisted no farther, 
but despatched the bulls for Montauban. 

During the whole period of these negotiations, M. 
de Cheverus never ceased making himself useful, and 
displaying his zeal wherever the occasion offered. 
On the second Sunday after Easter, his friend, M. de 
Pierre, Curate of the church of St. Sulpice, invited 
him to preach. The desire of hearing so celebrated 
a prelate, drew a large and distinguished audience, 
amongst whom were the Grand Almoner, and many 
bishops and peers. Every one expected an eloquent 
and elaborate sermon, but M. de Cheverus, who on 
all occasions considered only what was most useful, 
restricted himself to a simple and familiar, but touch- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 131 

ing and practical instruction upon the good example 
mentioned in the epistle of the day. When some one 
afterwards made an observation to him upon the 
number of great personages who were present — " I 
knew nothing about it," he replied, " but even if I 
had, I should not have put a bigger pot on the fire." 
To do good was his sole ambition; he even seemed 
to multiply himself for that purpose. Thus on the 
day of Pentecost, after having celebrated mass in 
Paris, he went to Mount Valerian to act as assistant 
Bishop at the consecration of M. de Janson, and 
thence returned to St. Sulpice, where he preached at 
vespers. This sermon, though extemporaneous, was 
very remarkable. He showed in it how from that 
day of Pentecost the Holy Ghost had founded the 
church with its four grand characteristics, making it 
one by the union of minds and hearts; holy by the 
virtues of the first christians; catholic by the con- 
version of men of all nations who were at Jerusalem 
as so many deputies from the different people of the 
earth; apostolical by the submission of all the faith- 
ful to the teaching and authority of the apostles. 

So much labour was not without fruit, and M. de 
Cheverus could cherish the consoling thought, that if 
the Pope acceded to his request to be allowed to pass 
the residue of his life in retirement, he might still 
render himself useful. " I will go," he wrote at the 
time, " and throw myself at the feet of the king, pro- 
testing my devotion to his sacred person, and will 
then shut myself up in retirement, where I will never 
cease to pray for his majesty, and teach both by pre- 
cept and example as efficiently as my strength will 
permit, the love of religion and of the best of kings. 
Already since my return to my country, I have had 



132 LIFE OF 

the happiness of seeing that my efforts can contribute 
to the support of the altar and of the legitimate 
throne — sacred causes to which I have dedicated my 
life." 

But Providence disposed of him otherwise. The 
bulls had already arrived from Rome and were in 
the hands of the council of state, and M. de Cheve- 
rus was expecting to receive them every instant, 
when a sudden and singular difficulty arose. It was 
pretended that, having been naturalized as an Ame- 
rican and absent from France for more than thirty 
years, he could not be considered a Frenchman, nor, 
in consequence, be elevated to a see in the kingdom. 
Hurt at finding his citizenship a matter of dispute, 
he wrote to the minister that if the king of France, 
after recalling him as his subject, should now refuse 
to acknowlege him as such, he would leave Paris 
at once, and renounce forever the bishopric of Mon- 
tauban. This settled the difficulty; the bulls were 
immediately registered, and sent to him the same 
day. 

As soon as he received his bulls, M. de Cheverus 
seemed to live only for his diocese. The first object 
which he proposed to himself was the organization 
of his seminary, convinced, as he was, that upon that 
depends the perpetuity of the priesthood, and eccle- 
siastical piety and learning; in a word, the whole 
futurity of a diocese. He accordingly addressed him- 
self to the society of St. Sulpice, which he had loved 
and venerated from his youth, and with which he 
had had the most intimate relations during his resi- 
dence in America. He was very desirous of confid- 
ing to it the direction of his seminary, and M. Duc- 
laux, the superior of the society, was not less will- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 133 

ing to undertake the charge, from consideration for 
the merit of the Bishop, and gratitude for his kind- 
ness towards the Sulpitians of America ; but there 
were no members of the society to spare, and his re- 
quest was reluctantly refused. He was more fortu- 
nate with the priests of St. Vincent of Paul, known 
by the name of Lazarites, from whom he obtained 
the directors he wished. This was a great relief to 
him, for it was his principle that a seminary cannot 
be well conducted but by members of a community 
vowed to a life of self-denial, stationary by profes- 
sion, and without any views of advancement to eccle- 
siastical posts and dignities. 

He next selected for his grand vicars the two 
priests of his new diocese who enjoyed the highest 
degree of public confidence, and then set out for 
Montauban without delay. On the 27th of July he 
reached Moissac, the second city of his diocese, and 
was there received with the most enthusiastic demon- 
strations of joy and respect. Resuming his journey 
the next morning at six o'clock, he encountered upon 
the road the Prefect and the General of the depart- 
ment, with an immense crowd, who had come from 
Montauban to meet him, and at the entrance of the 
city, the clergy, the municipal authorities, and depu- 
ties from different religious associations, assembled 
under tents prepared for his reception. After being 
complimented by the mayor in the name of the city, 
and by the Abbe de Trelissac, his Grand Vicar, in 
the name of the clergy, he made a solemn entry into 
Montauban in his pontifical robes, in the midst of 
salvos of artillery, strains of harmonious music inter- 
spersed with hymns, a numerous collection of eccle- 
siastics, the various religious societies, troops in com- 

12 



134 LIFE OP 

plete array, and a vast multitude of people, all of 
whom seemed animated with one feeling of delight. 
On arriving before the door of the cathedral, he knelt 
down to invoke the Divine blessing upon his church, 
his flock, and the performance of his episcopal duties. 
After a fervent prayer, he entered the edifice, and 
ascending the pulpit, said, in a voice almost suffocated 
with emotion: "What happiness I taste, my dear 
children in Jesus Christ, in finding myself in the 
midst of the beloved flock whom Providence has 
deigned to entrust to me ! Your eagerness to wel- 
come me and give me testimonials of your filial love, 
fills me with the sweetest sensations. I see that you 
love me as I love you; you are my children, my 
friends, and I am your father, your devoted friend. 
I wish only to live for you, to provide for your spi- 
ritual wants, to console this diocese for its long pri- 
vation of a first pastor, and joyfully would I sacrifice 
my existence for your welfare." After addressing 
the different authorities, and the whole assemblage, 
in the most affectionate and paternal language, he 
alluded to the Protestants, who are quite numerous 
in the diocese of Montauban, and manifested all that 
his heart felt in regard to them. " There is," he 
said, "an interesting portion of the inhabitants of 
this diocese who, although strangers to our commu- 
nion, should not be so to our affections: to them also 
I wish to be a father, a friend; happy if it should one 
day be given me to reunite them all in one faith, as 
we ought to confound them in our charity." 

After the performance of the Te Deum, and the 
other usual ceremonies, the Bishop received again in 
his palace the compliments of- the different authori- 
ties, and replied to them all in the most gracious 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 135 

manner. " I have a heart," he said, " extremely- 
disposed to love, and I wish to be loved." The Pro- 
testant ministers were also received and spoken to 
in the kindest way. He told them that it would be 
his endeavour to establish between them and himself 
the most friendly relations. Such was the entrance 
of M. de Cheverus into Montauban, and it may be 
said that from that day he won all hearts — that all 
had but one voice in his praise, one sentiment of 
affection for his person. 

He occupied himself at once with the organization 
of his chapter. Favour had no part, in it; merit alone 
determined his choice. Previously, during his stay 
at Paris, he had appointed several canons, and now 
he completed the number. Reflecting afterwards 
how important it was both for the honour of religion 
and the glory of God, and for the purpose of render- 
ing the church an object of attraction, to give to the 
parochial office all possible solemnity and pomp, he 
united the curacy with the chapter, and made the 
capitulary the parochial mass. He did not imagine 
that the dignity of a chapter consisted in being sepa- 
rated from the people, and celebrating its grand cere- 
monies in the melancholy solitude of a deserted ca- 
thedral. He thought, on the contrary, that where 
the faithful were congregated, there should the 
greatest pomp be displayed; that there is nothing 
more worthy of a chapter than to attract to its cele- 
brations, by blending them with the parochial ser- 
vice, a numerous assemblage to give them interest 
and life. 

In consequence of this measure, the offices of the 
cathedral were performed with the utmost solemnity, 
and attended on Sundays and festivals by overflow- 



136 LIFE OF 

ing crowds. Another motive also drew people to 
the church. Since his return, M. de Cheverus had 
remarked the profound ignorance which existed in 
France of the first truths of religion, even among edu- 
cated persons and those who made profession of 
piety to a certain extent; and he determined to do 
all in his power to remove it by regular instructions 
every Sunday at the parochial mass. Without com- 
municating his object to his auditors, but on the con- 
trary, hiding it under oratorical forms so as not to 
wound their self-love, he explained the catechism to 
them in the order of the lessons contained in that 
elementary book; doing it with so much earnestness 
and fascination of manner, that all classes of society 
delighted to listen to him. The learned and the igno- 
rant, Protestants and Catholics, ail thronged around 
the pulpit, all treasured up his words, and lauded 
every where his eloquence and pathos. When he 
once found himself master of his audience, and was 
sure of not marring the success of his instructions, he 
revealed his innocent secret. " If I had announced 
to you in the outset," he said, " that I was about to 
teach you the catechism every Sunday, you would 
have deemed it beneath you to attend, thinking that 
such instruction was only fit for children; neverthe- 
less for six months I have been doing nothing else, 
and you have been interested in it; learn then, that 
the catechism is the book of old men as well as of 
children, of the wise as of the ignorant; all may 
find in it food for meditation and improvement, and 
only the most absurd prejudice can look upon it with 
disdain." He prosecuted his course, and all con- 
tinued to follow it with unabated ardour. 

The fame of the preaching and virtues of M. de 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 137 

Cheverus soon spread throughout the neighbouring 
provinces; the public prints were full of them, and 
their praise was in every mouth. The Cardinal de 
Clermont Tonnerre, Archbishop of Toulouse, desir- 
ing to make the acquaintance of so renowned a pre- 
late, went to visit him at Montuaban, and was so 
delighted with his modesty and the amiable simpli- 
city of his manhers, that he begged him to return his 
visit, and made him promise to preach in his metro- 
politan church. He accordingly went there, and 
delivered a sermon which produced a deep impres- 
sion upon the audience, and so affected the Cardinal 
that he prayed him to give his blessing to the people. 
" In the presence of your Eminence," replied the 
humble Bishop, "it does not become me to bless 
your people; but since you wish it," he added, fall- 
ing on his knees before the Cardinal, " give me your 
own blessing, and I will transmit it to your flock." 
The Cardinal did so with tears in his eyes, and M. 
de Cheverus blessed the assembly in the name of his 
Eminence. 

Preaching was not the principal occupation of M. 
de Cheverus. To traverse his diocese, to make ac- 
quaintance with its pastors, to study its wants, to 
observe its spirit, and dispense by the sacrament of 
Confirmation, the graces of which the Bishop is the 
agent, these he regarded as the first of his duties; 
and these he discharged with indefatigable zeal, 
even, it might be said, with the sweetest satisfaction, 
for every where he went, he was received with the 
same enthusiasm, and taken leave of with the same 
regret. One day when about to get into his carriage 
to leave a parish, a poor woman having seized and 

kissed his hand as he extended it to give his parting 

12* 



138 LIFE OF 

benediction, he was obliged to remain there more 
than an hour to bestow the same happiness upon all 
the inhabitants of the place, who crowded around 
him for the purpose of procuring it. An attempt be- 
ing made to send them away, "Let them approach/' 
he said, " let the good people testify their faith and 
their gratitude as they choose." The Protestants 
rivalled the Catholics in their manifestations of re- 
spect and regard, and seemed to form with them but 
a single flock. u There are no longer any Protes- 
testants at Montauban," said a deputy from that 
city to the king, " we are all of us bishopites" He 
took pleasure in mentioning these favourable dispo- 
sitions in one of his circular letters, after his return 
from a visitation. " Every where, he said, as in our 
episcopal city, our separated brethren have shown us 
an affectionate respect, and we cannot but nourish 
the hope that it will not be difficult for them to ac- 
knowledge as their bishop, one whom they cherish 
as their friend." Kind towards all the world, he was 
especially so to the poor whom he succoured, the 
wretched whom he consoled, and the sinner whom 
he endeavoured to bring back to God. If he heard 
of a division in a family or a parish, he found a thou- 
sand amiable modes of effecting a reconciliation. The 
following is one amongst many instances. One day 
he was informed that the Mayor had quarrelled, 
and was at daggers' points with his curate. He im- 
mediately called upon him, and said, "I have a 
favour to ask of you, Sir; you may perhaps deem 
me indiscreet, but I expect every thing from your 
kindness." The Mayor protested there was nothing 
which he would not be happy to do for so excellent 
a prelate. " Then," said the Bishop, throwing his 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERtfS. 139 

arms round his neck and embracing him, " the favour 
I have to ask is, that you will take this kiss of peace 
to your curate." The Mayor promised, kept his 
word, and the reconciliation was accomplished. 

But what carried the reputation of M. de Cheverus 
to the highest point, and excited in every breast a feel- 
ing of enthusiasm which only those can understand 
who were witnesses of it, was the charity, the gene- 
rous devotion he displayed in the winter of 1826. 
The river Tarn having overflowed its banks, and 
risen with fearful rapidity to the height of thirty feet 
above its ordinary level, had submerged the two 
principal suburbs of Montauban, and placed their 
poor inhabitants in a situation of the greatest peril. 
At the first news of this disaster, the Bishop hastened 
to the spot, and caused boats to be sent to the assis- 
tance of those who were about to perish. A worthy 
successor of Fenelon, who said that bishops have also 
their days of battle, he superintended, encouraged, 
and urged on the endeavours to rescue them, and 
had soon the satisfaction of seeing them all deposited 
in a place of safety. But what was to become of 
them? The greater part were poor, without either 
house or bread. "My friends," said the Bishop, 
"the episcopal palace is yours; come all of you; I 
will share with you my last morsel." The palace 
was accordingly transformed into a hospital, and 
three hundred persons were accommodated in its 
different apartments. Being informed that a poor 
woman who was a protestant remained at the door, 
afraid to enter on account of her difference of faith, 
he ran to her, saying — " Come in, we are all breth- 
ren, especially in misfortune," and conducted her into 
a room where others, her companions in misery, were 



140 LIFE OF 

already assembled. During the whole period of the 
inundation, the good Bishop kept the sufferers in his 
house, taking care of them with the tenderness of a 
parent; and when the river retired into its channel, 
and they were enabled to return to their dwellings, 
he opened a subscription for them, at the head of 
which he placed his name. His example was of 
irresistible influence. A considerable sum was raised, 
which he divided amongst the victims of the flood 
according to their wants. Their losses were thus 
repaired, and they returned to their homes, loading 
the Bishop with their gratitude and blessings. 

So admirable a trait of charity was soon carried to 
every quarter of France. Charles X. having heard 
of it, wrote to M. de Cheverus to express his admi- 
ration of his conduct, and sent him a thousand francs 
to indemnify him, in part, for the expense he had in- 
curred. The money was scarcely received before 
it was distributed among the sufferers, the Bishop 
deeming himself sufficiently remunerated by the hap- 
piness of relieving the afflicted. The glory which he 
obtained on this occasion had no effect upon his hu- 
mility; and it is affecting to see with what modesty 
he spoke of the action a few days afterwards. 

A former pupil of the college of Louis le Grand, 
hearing the name of M. de Cheverus repeated in 
every direction, was curious to know whether it was 
the young Abbe whom he had once known, and 
wrote to the Bishop to obtain the desired informa- 
tion. " I knew," he said, " at the College of Louis 
le Grand, a young Abbe of your name, as modest as 
he was religious, as studious as he was learned, mild 
and affable in his disposition, and the model of his 
comrades: permit me to ask, whether that young 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 141 

Abb6 was yourself?" " I am," replied the Bishop, 
"really the little Abbe de Cheverus of Louis le 
Grand. How I should delight to see you here, to 
thank you for your kind remembrance, and prove to 
you that the mitre which has been forcibly, as it 
were, placed upon my poor head, has neither turned 
it, nor made it proud. The little that I did for the 
poor victims of the inundation has been greatly ex- 
aggerated. I was far from supposing that it would 
make so much noise, and attract even the approba- 
tion of our august monarch himself." 

A short time after the incident just narrated, the 
great epoch of the Jubilee arrived; and during the 
whole of that holy period, M. de Cheverus, in addi- 
tion to the usual sermon on Sunday, preached every 
Wednesday and Friday, presided in person at all the 
exercises of the retreat in his cathedral, and gave an 
instruction there every day. Not content with these 
public acts of zeal, he went about visiting sinners in 
private, in the hope of winning their hearts to God. 
Among them was a priest, who, during the reign of 
revolutionary terror, had contracted a sacrilegious 
marriage in violation of his vows. M. de Cheverus 
went to see him frequently; and, aided by the grace 
which he invoked by fervent prayers, he at length 
awakened in the sinner's breast such lively emotions 
of repentance, that the poor wretch sent him a recan- 
tation couched in the most affecting terms, with a 
request that it should be read out in church before all 
the faithful there assembled. " Penetrated with grief 
for my sins and for the scandal which I have given, 
I supplicate divine mercy, through the merits of my 
Saviour Jesus Christ, to accept my repentance. I de- 
sire the faithful to know that I would make the am- 



142 LIFE OF 

plest amends, prostrating myself in their presence at 
the foot of the altar, did my infirmities permit. Let 
them be informed at least, (and I humbly implore 
their pity and their prayers,) that I acknowledge 
with shame and agony of spirit, that, by a vile act of 
apostacy, I violated my sacred vows, and contracted 
an alliance which religion condemns. Pardon me, 
my God ; pardon an unfortunate priest, an erring, but 
repentant mortal. Forgive me, my brethren, whom I 
have scandalized, and pray for a miserable sinner." 
This confession was placed in the hands of M. de 
Cheverus just as he was going to preach in the ca- 
thedral before an immense congregation, and so 
strongly did it move him that he could speak upon 
no other theme. He took for his text these words of 
Scripture: " Ne despicias hominem avertentem se a 
peccato neque improperes ei: Memento quoniam 
omnes in correptione sumus. Despise not the man 
who turns away from his sin, neither reproach him: 
Remember that we are all worthy of chastisement;" 
and then, in language full of compassionate regard 
for the penitent, detailed the conversion which had 
been operated, read the confession, and drew from it 
some useful reflections upon the charity which should 
be shown to repenting sinners who may become great 
saints, as well as upon the humility which should be 
cherished by the just, who, if they watch not over 
themselves, may sink at last into reprobates. On 
leaving the pulpit, he immediately hastened to the 
penitent to give him every consolation and encour- 
agement. 

A more remarkable circumstance than even the 
foregoing, was that which occurred among the sol- 
diers of the garrison of Montauban. Observing that 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 143 

they rarely attended at church, and that the Jubilee 
was passing without any fruit for them, M. de Cheve- 
rus undertook to awaken them to a sense of their 
duty. Day after day he preached to them in the 
mode best calculated to inspire them with a wish to 
comply with the requisitions of their religion. At 
length, edified by his zeal, and moved by his exhor- 
tations, they asked to approach the sacraments. He 
immediately sent confessors to them, confessed many 
himself, and having brought them to the proper dis- 
positions, conducted them in person, during several 
successive days, to the different churches to make 
their Jubilee stations. It was a spectacle which the 
inhabitants of Montauban will never forget, that of a 
body of soldiers marching behind their Bishop, with 
an air and deportment of the utmost seriousness, and 
with prayers upon their lips, attracted by their hearts 
alone; for M. de Cheverus had taken care that au- 
thority should have no part in the affair, but that all 
should be entirely spontaneous. 

Whilst Montauban was rejoicing in the happiness 
of having such a Bishop, an event which was soon to 
cause him to be removed from it, occurred in a neigh- 
bouring diocese. On the 11th of July, 1826, death 
snatched from the love and veneration of the inha- 
bitants of Bordeaux their Archbishop of blessed me- 
mory, M. d'Aviau du Bois de Sanzai. The city and 
diocese were inconsolable. How was so great a loss 
to be repaired ? Where could a prelate be found so 
charitable, so devoted, so perfect ? Such was the uni- 
versal cry which resounded from Bordeaux, and but 
one reply was every where heard. It designated M. 
de Cheverus as the only one worthy of succeeding M. 
d'Aviau. Accordingly the king delayed not to obey 



144 LIFE OP 

the public voice, and confirm the choice already made 
by public opinion. On the 30th of the month he 
signed the ordinance which elevated the Bishop of 
Montauban to the metropolitan see of Bordeaux; 
and the minister of ecclesiastical affairs, in sending it 
to M. de Cheverus, informed him that the matter 
was irrevocably arranged, and that he must not 
even think of opposing it. " I can well understand/' 
added the minister, " your sorrow, and the affliction 
of the city of Montauban ; but you are the man for 
the emergency, and the king has judged it necessary 
to impose the sacrifice upon you both." 

On the reception of this intelligence, it would be 
difficult to say whose grief was the greatest, the 
Bishop's or that of his flock, especially as the epistle 
of the minister seemed to leave no hope of obtaining 
a revocation of the decree. Nevertheless M. de Che- 
verus wrote to the minister to complain of and protest 
against the arrangement; and the city also carried 
the expression of its feelings to the foot of the throne. 
"Although applauding," it said, "an elevation so 
well deserved, and a mark of homage so striking, 
decreed to the worthy rival of the Vincent de Pauls 
and the Fenelons, we are not able to restrain the ut- 
terance of our grief, to stifle our lamentations, espe- 
cially as we know that the sorrow of our holy pre- 
late at quitting us is equal to that which we feel for 
his loss. Has Providence, then, only granted us so 
precious a blessing to snatch it from us at the mo- 
ment when it has become for all the inhabitants of 
the diocese the most intimate source of happiness ?" 
To this supplication, of which we have cited only a 
passage, was joined a letter to her royal highness the 
dauphiness, conjuring her to lend the aid of her in- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 145 

fluence with the king to the prayers of the people of 
Montauban. M. de Cheverus was also besought, in 
an eloquent epistle, to unite his solicitations with those 
of his children. " It is a desolate family," they said, 
" which throws itself into your arms, entreating you, 
with hands raised to heaven, not to abandon it, not 
to devote it, by a separation, to ceaseless regrets." 
He had already anticipated their request, and has- 
tened to inform them of it. " I wrote yesterday to 
the minister," he replied, "and conjured his majesty 
not to take me from my flock. If his answer is fa- 
vourable, my gratitude and my joy will show how 
much I love the people of my diocese ; and if his or- 
ders are peremptory, my obedience will cost me an 
abundance of tears; but the example of the inhabi- 
tants of Montauban would teach me, if necessary, 
that our king is to be obeyed and served with the 
sacrifice of all that is dearest, even of life itself." 

All these solicitations were fruitless, and only 
proved that Montauban and Boston, cities so different 
in the customs and characters of their population, 
knew equally well how to appreciate M. de Cheve- 
rus, and understand the misfortune of losing him. 
The answers arrived from Paris, containing nothing 
but regrets at the impossibility of complying with 
the wishes which had been so warmly urged. Op- 
pressed as he was with grief, M. de Cheverus never- 
theless ceased not, up to the very moment of his de- 
parture, to labour with unabated zeal for the welfare 
of his diocese. Although he had done so much good 
in so short a time, confirmed more than forty thou- 
sand Catholics, and dispensed so often the words of 
truth, it seemed to him that he could never do 

enough. The moments which he could snatch from 

13 



146 LIFE OF 

his avocations, were employed in receiving the visits 
of his diocesans, who thronged around him to give 
vent to their sorrow, and seek consolation from his 
lips. But, alas ! he himself had as much need of it 
as they, and every regret that was expressed, only 
served to aggravate his painful emotions. A touch- 
ing proof of attachment was given him by his Grand 
Vicar, the Abbe de Trelissac. The latter had been 
dwelling for more than twenty years at Montauban, 
where he possessed property and a host of friends; 
but placing before every thing the happiness of liv- 
ing with such a Bishop, he begged as a favour to be 
allowed to follow him to Bordeaux. He resolved to 
sell all he owned, to give up all his friends, to go 
even to Boston, if necessary, rather than be separated 
from M. de Cheverus. The new Archbishop could 
not resist so strong a mark of affection, and accepted 
the offer with gratitude. His departure from Mon- 
tauban took place during the night, to enable him to 
escape the adieus of his flock, which he could not 
summon resolution to encounter. 

On his arrival at Paris, Charles X. received him 
with all his wonted affability and kindness, manifest- 
ing in the most flattering manner the esteem and 
affection he entertained for him; and shortly after- 
wards named him a peer of France, by a favour the 
more marked, as no one shared with him the honours 
of the promotion. This elevation aiflicted his bene- 
volence as much as it disturbed his humility. He 
was unwilling that the poor should lose the money 
he would be obliged to expend in his journeys to 
Paris and residence there during the sessions of the 
chamber; and he had always felt a repugnance to 
dignities and whatever brought him out into public 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 147 

notice. It was requisite for M. de Villele, then mi- 
nister of finance, to set him at ease upon the first 
point, by promising him an addition to his salary 
sufficient to cover his expenses; and to encourage 
him in regard to the second, by making him behold 
in his elevation the wish of his country, sanctioned 
by the king. 

Whilst he was at Paris he received a letter from 
the Grand Vicars of Bordeaux, in which, having ex- 
pressed all the joy that his appointment afforded 
them, they requested him to ask from the govern- 
ment the ancient archeopiscopal residence — a magni- 
ficent palace, built by the Prince de Rohan Meriadec, 
when Archbishop of the city, and serving only, since 
changed from its original purpose, as a residence for 
the princes of Rohan when they visited Bordeaux. 
The humility of M. de Cheverus would not hearken 
to the idea. " It does not become a poor Bishop like 
me," he replied, "to dwell in so fine a palace; the 
humble asylum which sufficed my sainted predeces- 
sor will be too good for me; and moreover, I should 
be sorry to deprive our beloved princes of the least 
portion of the palace destined for them when they 
come to see us." Such sentiments caused the virtue 
of M. d ? Aviau's successor to be fully understood at 
Bordeaux, and increased the desire which was felt 
there for his arrival. He was proclaimed at Rome 
on the 2d of October, 1826, but did not receive his 
bulls until nearly six weeks afterwards, when he set 
out for Mayenne, to pass a few days with his family 
before taking possession of his new see. During his 
short stay there he preached at the church of Notre- 
Dame, at the Convent of the Visitation, at the hospi- 
tal, and at the prisons. His days of repose were 



148 LIFE OF 

days of apostolic works. At Mans he received the 
Pallium* from the hands of the Bishop of that city, 
in the chapel of the Grand Seminary, after an exhor- 
tation which he addressed to the pupils of that esta- 
blishment upon the subject of apostolic zeal. On 
the evening of the ceremony, he was invited to 
preach in the cathedral at the exercises of a mission 
which was then going on there; but as he was suffer- 
ing with a violent cold, which had changed the tones 
of his voice, he declined doing more than merely 
assisting at the service. In spite, however, of his re- 
fusal, as soon as he appeared in the church, the mis- 
sionary who was in the pulpit at the time, carried 
away by the desire of obtaining for his audience an 
exhortation from those lips which had reconciled so 
many sinners to virtue, announced to the assemblage 
that the Archbishop of Bordeaux would address them, 
and that he hastened to yield him his place. Taken 
completely by surprise the Archbishop hesitated a 
few moments; but summoning to his aid that resolu- 
tion which triumphs over the most painful maladies, 
he ascended the pulpit, and pronounced an extempo- 
raneous discourse. The impression it made was only 
rendered the livelier by his hoarse and altered voice, 
which gave greater interest to his words, and touch- 
ed all hearts by exhibiting the fervor of his zeal. 

He set out for Bordeaux the ensuing day, and ar- 
rived there on the 3d of December. At the entrance 
of the city he found the metropolitan chapter and a 
numerous body of clergy awaiting him, by whom he 
was conducted in procession to the cathedral. In 

* The Pallium is the decoration which the Pope sends to all 
Archbishops, and which must be given to them by a prelate. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 149 

the time so passed he had abundant evidence of the 
empire which his reputation alone had obtained for 
him over every heart. The faces of all seemed ra- 
diant with joy; all seemed to felicitate themselves 
upon finding what they thought they had irretrieva- 
bly lost, the goodness, the mildness, the charity of 
M. d' Aviau. " What a kind look he has ! how amia- 
ble he appears ! Long life to the Archbishop ! Long 
life to the father of the poor!" were the exclama- 
tions that resounded on every side. At the door of 
the cathedral, the first Grand Vicar, M. Barres, an 
ecclesiastic of remarkable talent and still greater vir- 
tue, complimented him in the name of the clergy. 
In an answer replete with sensibility and fervor, M. 
de Cheverus caused all hearts to sympathise with the 
emotions which filled his own, " at the sight of that 
church, still wet with the tears shed over his sainted 
predecessor;" and commented with ability on those 
words of the fourth council of Carthage which briefly 
explain the duties of a Bishop: " In the church the 
Bishop should be above all his priests; in his house 
he should be their colleague: — Episcopus in ecclesid 
sublimior sedeat; intrh domum verd collegam se 
pr&sbyterorum esse cognosced" — Authority and 
force in the ecclesiastical government, but cordiality 
and friendship in his private relations. " I will love 
you," he said, in conclusion, to his clergy, "love me 
also ; my heart has need of you as friends." After 
the ceremony, he received the visits of the civil and 
military authorities, delighting them all with the kind- 
ness of their welcome, and the pertinency and grace 
of his replies. He possessed admirable ingenuity in 
discerning the point of contact between the clergy 
and the different bodies of the state. Now he des- 

13* 



150 LIFE OF 

cried it in the resemblance of functions, as when he 
said to the judge: "You pronounce decrees in the 
name of the God of justice, and we in the name of 
the God of mercy; thus, we are all brethren, and 
should support and love one another as such: reli- 
gion and justice are two sisters who ought never to 
be disunited." Again, he perceived it in reciprocal 
services, as when he said to the tribunal of com- 
merce: "Religion owes much to commerce, because 
it is commerce that has transported its missionaries 
to distant regions; it is commerce which carried me 
to America and brought me back to Europe; but 
commerce owes still more to religion, because it is re- 
ligion that watches over justice and good faith in 
contracts, which prevents fraud, or causes it to be 
repaired: thus mutual gratitude ought to make us all 
friends, and render us a family of brothers." The 
popularity of the Archbishop was fully established 
from that moment; his praises were in every mouth. 
" You see how they fete me here below," he said to 
a friend : " I fear that God will one day say to me, 
Thou hast received thy recompense in this world." 

In the administration of the great diocese confided 
to his care, he laid down, in the outset, these three 
rules of conduct — to be affable and kind to every 
one; to change nothing that had been done by his 
sainted predecessor; and to establish nothing with- 
out being well acquainted with persons, circum- 
stances, and places. 

To be affable and kind to every one, it would seem 
that he had only to follow the bent of his disposition, 
so prone by nature to benevolence; nevertheless it 
would be a great mistake to suppose that the invari- 
able mildness which marked his deportment, cost him 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 151 

no effort. God alone can know how much violence 
he was obliged to do himself to stifle irritations and 
dislikes, so as not to allow any indication of what he 
felt to appear, and bear with incessant interruptions 
in the midst of his vast and important labours, so as 
always to give the same welcome, however inoppor- 
tune and vexatious the visit might be. " If charity ," 
he said, " was only to be exercised towards persons 
whom we like, or in moments when we feel an in- 
clination to be kind, it would be altogether without 
merit." Hence it was that those even of whom he 
had reason to complain, and who, he knew, had cen- 
sured his conduct, or expressed in regard to him the 
most unfriendly sentiments, were received with the 
same kindness which he extended to his intimate 
friends. His charity threw a veil over every wrong. 
Thence it was that he was ever found ready to 
oblige and give pleasure to all. Sometimes, it is true, 
he appeared sad, dispirited, and silent, when his ex- 
cellent heart was weighed down by the load of some 
painful intelligence, or the fear of some disastrous 
event; and then, those who did not know him, might 
mistake his first address for coldness; but if they 
wished to ask any favour he could bestow, or open- 
ed their breasts to him for the purpose of obtaining 
his advice, they soon recognised the affectionate fa- 
ther, the charitable pastor, the considerate friend. 
All, whether priests or laymen, natives or strangers, 
were invited without distinction to his table, in a way 
that manifested the pleasure their acceptance would 
afford, yet left perfect freedom to those who were 
forced to refuse. 

One circumstance, which in an especial manner 
endeared him to the people of Bordeaux, was his 



152 LIFE OP 

profound respect for whatever had been done by his 
predecessor. Acting in a spirit very different from 
that of many overweening and captious individuals, 
who, when they are placed at the head of an admin- 
istration, insist upon altering every thing, and arrang- 
ing all matters according to their own egotistical 
notions, he observed a religious respect for whatever 
he found established, and studiously endeavoured to 
follow the path which had been previously pursued. 
"I succeed a saint," he was wont to say, "and re- 
spect all he did; his acts are for me a holy ark which 
I am not worthy to touch with the end of my finger." 
" Every day," he proclaimed in one of his circulars, 
" every day we beseech the Lord to preserve by our 
ministry all that was done by our admirable and 
sainted predecessor; and we deem ourselves happy 
when we feel assured that what we do would have 
been done by him under similar circumstances, and 
that we speak to you as he would have spoken. " It 
was from no desire of winning popularity that M. de 
Cheverus thus acted and spoke; but from the pro- 
foundest sentiment of humility in his estimation of 
himself, and the sincerest veneration for the memory 
of M. d'Aviau. He placed himself so far beneath 
his predecessor, that he could not endure to be 
brought into comparison with him, and looked upon 
every parallel of the kind as an insult. On one oc- 
casion, whilst presiding at a solemn distribution of 
prizes, he suddenly interrupted an orator who began 
his discourse with that species of praise so offensive 
to his ears, and uttered in an agitated voice these re- 
markable words: "To put me in comparison with 
my sainted predecessor, is to insult me, by bringing 
out my unworthiness into prominent relief; I will 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 153 

not permit such an outrage in public, and will take 
care to protect my dignity." From that time it was 
a thing understood in the diocese, that all compari- 
son of the sort was to be avoided in his presence. He 
was but too much inclined to talk to himself about 
him whom he succeeded; the thought of that admi- 
rable man's virtues would throw him into a state of 
anxiety and fear, which rendered his new See a pe- 
rennial source of pain. He regretted Montauban; he 
regretted Boston ; and often remarked in his familiar 
conversations: "If God had treated me like the wife 
of Lot, long since would I have been changed into a 
pillar of salt ! For how many looks of regret have I 
not cast behind!" 

So penetrated was he with this high idea of the 
virtues of M. d'Aviau, that being informed on the 
11th of July, 1827, at the very moment when he was 
about finishing the anniversary service for that holy 
prelate, that the congregation expected a funeral 
eulogium, he ascended the pulpit after a few mo- 
ments reflection at the foot of the altar, and pro- 
nounced a discourse which excited universal admira- 
tion. He chose for his text these words of the Holy 
Spirit concerning Moses: Dilectus Deo et hominibus, 
cujus memoria in benedictione est : similem ilium 
fuit in gloria sanctorum — " the beloved of God and 
man, whose memory is blessed; he has been made a 
partaker in the glory of the saints," and took occa- 
sion to show 1st. what M. d'Aviau had been before 
God, emblazoning his tender piety which made him 
appear at the altar like an angel, "et intuentes eum 
omnes, viderunt faciem ejus tanquam faciem an- 
geli," and rendered him a man of faith, of prayer, 
and of holiness — and 2d. what he had been towards 



154 LIFE OF 

his neighbour ; under which head he spoke his zeal 
for the salvation of souls, his charity to the poor, and 
his love for all. 

The difference, however, which the humility of 
M. de Cheverus perceived between himself and his 
predecessor, did not discourage him in the discharge 
of his duties, but rather served as an incentive to 
greater activity in the government of his diocese. 
Before resolving upon any measure, he was careful 
to observe, to reflect, and inform himself thoroughly 
in reference to it; for he was well aware that evil is 
often only envenomed by precipitate reforms, that it 
is dangerous even to touch what is good for the pur- 
pose of improvement, and that in every case, in order 
to act with wisdom, it is indispensable to be perfect- 
ly acquainted with the condition of things, and the 
disposition of men's minds. His first occupation, 
therefore, and principal effort in the outest, were to 
study the state of his diocese, the characters of his 
clergy, of the most influential individuals, and of the 
different populations of the towns and country. The 
numerous visits which he received every day, fur- 
nished him opportunities by which he did not fail to 
profit; but these were not enough, and he visited in 
succession all the parishes and religious establish- 
ments in Bordeaux, and afterwards the various sec- 
tions of his diocese, observing every thing with a 
keen and practised eye. In these journeys, he did 
not content himself with mere investigations, but at 
the same time did all the good in his power, preach- 
ing in each parish upon the disorders and vices 
which the curate informed him were prevalent, 
healing divisions, proclaiming every where his fa- 
vourite motto, "my brethren, my beloved, let us love 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 155 

one another," and giving himself the best examples 
of what he preached. 

On one occasion, having learnt that a curate was 
at open warfare with his parish, he went to the place 
with a view to re-establish peace. The curate in 
question, was a man of irreproachable life and ardent 
zeal, but of a vivacity of disposition which sometimes 
hurried him beyond all bounds. It was from this de- 
fect that the dispute originated. A child had been 
brought to him for baptism, whose god-mother had 
neglected to make her Easter Communion. Adher- 
ing too rigidly to ancient regulations made for other 
days, he would not permit her to stand, and so 
exasperated the parents that they refused to seek a 
substitute, preferring to let their infant remain un- 
baptized. On his arrival, M. de Cheverus having 
in vain begged the curate to withdraw his oppo- 
sition, directed one of the priests who accompanied 
him to perform the ceremony, to prevent the poor 
child from being the victim of the quarrel. Irritated 
beyond all self-control, the curate forgot himself so 
far as to say the most insulting things to his Arch- 
bishop. The latter opposed nothing but silence and 
calmness to the storm; and repairing to the church to 
celebrate divine service, he ascended the pulpit and 
invited all the parishioners to peace and union with 
their curate, on whom he pronounced an elaborate 
eulogium, detailing all the good qualities which re- 
ally belonged to him. " You have," he said, " but 
one complaint to make of him; he has, you say, a 
hasty and violent temper ; alas ! my friends, who is 
without defects? If I were to remain twenty-four 
hours amongst you, you would perhaps discover so 
many that you would not be able to tolerate me: you 



156 LIFE OF 

see but one in your curate; forgive then that single 
fault in consideration of so many virtues." Having 
finished his discourse, he went to the sacristy, where 
he found the curate abashed and ashamed, and em- 
bracing him with the utmost kindness, "My dear 
curate," said he, "I love you with all my heart; 
how shall we begin the service ?" seeking, by these 
means, to do away with the recollection of the offence 
which had been committed, and prove his condescen- 
sion in regard to every thing which was not inimical 
to his duty. The service over, he called upon the 
parishioners who were the most embittered against 
their pastor, and talked to them with so much eifect, 
that they consented to do whatever he wished. The 
reconciliation was forthwith accomplished, the kiss 
of peace given, all sat down to the same table, and 
every heart was united in that of the Archbishop. 
Thus did he every where spread the dominion of 
charity, and illustrate by his example the words of 
the apostle: " Charity is sweet and patient, not hasty 
to anger, but pardoneth and suffereth much." 

The first result of his pastoral visits, and of the 
knowledge which he acquired of his diocese, was 
also a work of charity. Two great evils had attract- 
ed his notice during his apostolical journeys — one, 
the distressing situation of certain priests, who hav- 
ing given every thing to the poor, were reduced them- 
selves to the utmost indigence by a long and expen- 
sive illness, or some unforeseen accident — the other, 
the sad condition of several parishes, which were 
destitute of instruction, of public service, of almost 
every kind of ministry, because their pastors were 
too old and infirm to perform their duties, and could 
not be deprived of their places without a species of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 157 

cruelty. Anxious to provide a remedy for these evils, 
the Archbishop proposed to his assembled clergy an 
annual subscription for the formation of a common 
fund, to be employed in furnishing pensions to priests 
whom age or infirmities rendered incapable of ser- 
vice, and giving succour to those whom sickness or 
accident reduced to want. The proposition, seconded 
as it was by all his eloquence as well as by the con- 
sideration of the advantages which each subscriber 
might derive from it, was eagerly adopted. As the 
chief of the clergy, he placed his name at the head 
of the list for a thousand francs a year, and in order 
that his death might not cause his subscription to 
cease, he invested a capital of twenty thousand 
francs in the name of the fund, which secures for 
ever the annual amount of the first subscription. He 
rejoiced in the thought that he would not only be the 
support and benefactor of his clergy during his life, 
but that after his death, his charity would endure for 
them from age to age. He did not, however, restrict 
himself to his subscription, but ever and anon depo- 
sited in the fund whatever he could spare from his 
accustomed alms. On one occasion he bestowed 
upon it the sum of ten thousand francs, which a 
charitable person had placed at his disposal, and he 
also directed his testamentary executor to add to it a 
sum of three thousand francs, if he should leave any 
thing at his death — an injunction which has been 
faithfully fulfilled. To assist his clergy in their need 
was his favourite work. "I know no charity," he 
used to say, " better placed, than that which assists a 
priest whose head has been blanched in the labours 
of the ministry, and who is poor because he has him- 
self been charitable." The clergy of Bordeaux will 

14 



158 LIFE OF 

never forget the interest and fervor with which he 
recommended every year in the ecclesiastical retreats 
this good work, of which he had the glory of being, 
as it were, the founder in France, and which was 
subsequently imitated by so many dioceses. 

The fund being once secured, he made the follow- 
ing regulations for its management — 1st. that each 
class of the clergy should have a representation of its 
interests in the committee charged with the division 
of the money — 2d. that this committee should be 
under the presidency of his grand vicar, and be com- 
posed of a canon, a curate, a rector, and a vicar; 
and, 3d. that a detailed account of the receipts and 
expenditures should be rendered every year, and sent 
to each subscriber, in order that all might judge of 
the good employment of the funds and the excel- 
lence of the institution, and enjoy the happiness of 
knowing how much they had contributed to the well 
being of their superannuated and invalid brethren. 

Besides the wants of the clergy, many other mat- 
ters engaged the attention of the Archbishop in his 
visits. He was particularly struck with the great di- 
versity of customs and practices in the different parts 
of the diocese, occasioned by the fact that many 
curates were either not provided with the statutes 
and ritual of the See, the editions of which were ex- 
hausted, or that these two ecclesiastical codes con- 
taining prescriptions which were no longer in har- 
mony with existing habits and circumstances, each 
one traced out for himself his individual line of con- 
duct. This inconvenience he remedied in part by 
publishing a new ritual, in which his wonted circum- 
spection and prudence were visible. He religiously 
respected every thing in the ancient ritual not incom- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 159 

patible with the actual condition of society, and 
added as little as possible, it being his principle that 
in regard to laws, the fewer there are of them the 
better. On this point he was fond of quoting the 
observation of a member of the legislative assembly, 
who, at the close of a sitting, the debate of which had 
terminated in the suppression of a proposed law, said 
to one of his friends: " We have accomplished our 
master-piece to-day — we have abstained" He con- 
fined himself, accordingly, to laying down clear rules 
of conduct for the most ordinary eases, as for example, 
in reference to god-fathers and god-mothers, to which 
function he forbade all to be admitted whose mar- 
riage had not been blessed by the church, or who did 
not make profession of the Catholic faith. He con- 
eluded with a new homily which he charged his 
curates to read frequently to their parishioners, and 
which contained a clear and succinct abridgment of 
all the truths that a Christian must believe, the pre- 
cepts he must observe, the sacraments he must re- 
ceive, and the prayers he must say. 

The Archbishop did not lose sight of the numerous 
parishes which were destitute of pastors, and the 
numerous pastors requiring adjuncts, who were 
forced to neglect many of the souls entrusted to 
their care, or exhaust themselves in a little time if 
they attended to all their duties. The remedy for 
this evil he knew was to be found in his seminaries, 
and to insure the prosperity and accelerate the ad- 
vancement of these establishments, was an object of 
eeaseiess solicitude. He paid them constant visits, 
never failing to address words of exhortation and 
encouragement to the pupils, and granting every 
request of the superiors calculated to benefit the in- 



160 LIFE OF 

stitutions. In the retreats which preceded the ordi- 
nations of the pupils, he was especially active. 
Regarding the new position in which so many 
young men were soon to be placed, who had pre- 
viously been hidden in the shade of the seminaries, 
and were all at once to be brought into the midst of 
the world with obligations resting upon them of im- 
mense importance, and with vast influence either for 
good or for evil, according to their conduct, he felt 
his inmost soul concerned in their fate, and that of 
the religion of which they were about to become 
ministers. He was at such time, if possible, more 
than ever, earnest in the developement of those lessons 
of wisdom and modesty and disinterestedness which 
were to insure the success of their labours, and in 
the inculcation of the necessity of rendering religion 
amiable in the sight of men, and attracting sinners to 
her by the excellence of their deportment, the mild- 
ness of their character, the suavity of their language, 
and the devotedness of their charity. After the cere- 
mony of ordination had been performed, he was 
always too much affected to preach a regular dis- 
course upon the duties of the priesthood; but he 
poured out his heart in a flood of sensibility at the 
sight of " those new children added to his sacredotal 
family, those new aids sent to the succour of his 
weakness, those new staffs on which his old age 
could lean." Ceaseless, however, as were the lessons 
and examples of virtue which he carried to the semi- 
naries, he would never permit himself to interfere 
with their interior management. The Society of St. 
Sulpice, which superintended the principal establish- 
ment, and the venerable ecclesiastic who had the 
direction of the smaller one, possessed his entire con- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 161 

fidence. He confided to them all details without 
reserve, remarking that "unity is indispensable in 
every government, harmony of views in every ad- 
ministration; and that a machine which is pulled in 
two directions, can have no regular movement." 
Thus the most frank and cordial union subsisted be- 
tween the Archbishop and his seminary, who always 
hailed his visits with pleasure, and welcomed him as 
a father in the bosom of his family. 

It was not only the education of youth designed 
for the priesthood that excited the interest of M. de 
Cheverus. He was well aware that good priests 
would in vain be multiplied, if the first education of 
children was vicious; if their minds and their hearts 
were not formed from the tenderest age to the love 
and the practice of virtue. It was this conviction 
that rendered the brethren who had charge of the 
Christian schools, so dear to him. He looked upon 
them as the most signal benefactors of society and 
religion; admired their devotedness, which faith alone 
could inspire and sustain, and marvelled how reflect- 
ing persons could compare them with teachers who 
were animated by worldly motives. He often visited 
their schools, felicitating the pupils on having such 
masters, whom he called the co-operators of his min- 
istry; and at times invited the children to his resi- 
dence and distributed rewards among them. "If 
Bordeaux should lose these good brethren," he wrote 
to a clergyman to whom he was recommending them, 
"it would be an irreparable misfortune; it is in their 
schools that are learned the love of order, respect for 
the magistrates, and submission to the laws, because 
they inculcate those duties in the name of religion, 
the only solid basis of social happiness." He would 



14 



* 



162 LIFE OF 

have recommended them also, had it been necessary, 
to the authorities of the city, but the brethren suf- 
ficiently recommended themselves. Every year the 
exhibition of the labours of the scholars, and the 
readiness of their replies to questions which seemed 
fitted for higher studies, displayed the great progress 
they had made. The Archbishop was almost alarmed 
at their rapid improvement, fearing that youths so 
well cultivated would be eager to rise above their 
condition, and mingle in the already crowded ranks 
which thronged the avenues to preferment and places 
and thus in his discourses, he was careful to warn 
them against that ambition of the lower classes which 
he esteemed one of the greatest curses of modern 
society, creating as it does, a feeling of discontent, a 
desire for revolution and change, which render them 
the tools and victims of demagogues. "You are 
on the last step," he one day said to them, " of the 
social ladder, but it is the same with it as it was 
with the ladder of Jacob, on which the angels ascend- 
ed and descended: the one who was on the step 
nearest the earth, was neither less great, nor less 
happy, nor less honourable than the one who was on 
the step nearest heaven. Thus it is with you, my 
children; all conditions are honourable when they 
are properly filled, and happiness is every where to 
be found by the virtuous." 

The Archbishop was also wont to visit with great 
interest, the religious communities which educated 
young persons of the other sex, whether rich or poor. 
He gave his attendance, whenever desired, at their 
exhibitions, either to stimulate emulation or distri- 
bute the prizes, and spared no pains to promote their 
welfare and happiness in every way. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 163 

To this zeal for the right education of children he 
joined an ardor not less active, in the furtherance of 
another work destined to spread the lessons of reli- 
gion and virtue among adults of every class. We 
allude to the publication of those good books of which 
Bordeaux has the glory of having been, so to speak, 
the cradle, and which thence extended over most of 
the dioceses of France. Before the arrival of M. de 
Cheverus, the work had been commenced by a holy 
priest, M. Barrant, who, beholding the infernal in- 
dustry with which certain persons were engaged in 
the dissemination of books calculated to destroy the 
very germs of religion in every breast, conceived the 
project of furnishing an antidote to their baleful 
effects. He began by putting in circulation all the 
books of his own library, the perusal of which might 
be useful. For each class and condition he chose an 
appropriate production, giving at first an amusing 
one, then one in which instruction was blended with 
amusement, and at length those of a purely religious 
character, which were fitted to make the reader ac- 
quainted with the precepts of Christianity, and in- 
spire him with the love and practice of virtue. His 
first attempts were crowned with success, and he had 
the consolation of seeing many return to God, en- 
lightened and moved by the volumes he placed in 
their hands, who had previously lived in an entire 
neglect of every religious practice. Encouraged by 
his success, he employed all his means in the pur- 
chase of books, interested others in the undertaking, 
and thousands of volumes were soon circulating 
through the diocese, carrying in all directions the 
light of religion and the sacred fire of piety. M. 
d'Aviau gave his approval and canonical sanction to 



164 LIFE OP 

the association, and informed the Holy See of it, by 
whom it was loaded with praise. Such was the state 
of things when M. de Cheverus arrived at Bordeaux. 
He felicitated himself on finding there so admirable 
an enterprise, took the founder of it into especial fa- 
vour, and seized the first opportunity which present- 
ed itself of bestowing upon him a high mark of his 
esteem, by naming him titulary canon of his metro- 
politan city. He gave him a present, besides, of 
more than six hundred volumes, in addition to pecu- 
niary assistance; preached in favour of the associa- 
tion whenever requested, declared himself its pro- 
tector and friend, presided at its meetings in his own 
palace, and to enable it the more certainly to accom- 
plish its object, established a committee for an exa- 
mination of the books which were proper to be put 
in circulation. 

If M. de Cheverus was so full of zeal for every 
thing that can form men to virtue, or bring back 
those who have wandered from religion, it may be 
inferred how much he sympathised with such as had 
retired from a world whose dangers they had expe- 
rienced, and devoted themselves in retreat to the ex- 
piation of their offences. More than three hundred 
females of this description were living in the Maison 
de Retraite et de MesSricorde, (House of Retreat 
and Mercy,) which existed at Bordeaux — voluntary 
penitents, who led a life of hardship and labour, but 
were blessed by the happiness of a purified con- 
science and recovered peace of mind, and the holy 
exercises of prayer. The establishment was the ob- 
ject of the Archbishop's peculiar admiration. He 
considered it as the glory of his diocese, and loved to 
take strangers to it to make them admire the finger 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 165 

of God, and the operations of his grace. For its sup- 
port he spared no efforts; after his death it was his 
principal heir, and during the whole of his life, he 
was ever bestowing upon it alms proportionate to 
his means, and inducing the rich to exert their gene- 
rosity in its behalf. Whenever its necessities became 
too great for individual relief, he would convoke a 
charitable meeting, and inspiring these with the sen- 
sibility which filled his own breast, collect an abun- 
dant sum. The superior of the establishment, Ma- 
demoiselle de Lamouroux, was a lady whom he held 
in the highest esteem. She was of an excellent 
family, and by an act of heroic charity and devoted- 
ness, had sacrificed her youth, her repose, her health, 
all the enjoyments of life, to dedicate herself to the 
care of her erring but penitent sisters. For thirty- 
six years she had been occupied in providing for the 
daily subsistence of three hundred persons, without 
ever asking assistance, although the establishment 
was destitute of revenue. " God is sufficient for us/ 5 
she was wont to say; " I labour for him, I confide in 
him alone; if I solicited the aid of men they would 
fail me in the end, for men are never to \)e trusted, 
and then if I had recourse to God, he would send me 
back to the men whom I had preferred; whereas by 
looking only to him, I can say, My God, you have 
confided your children to my care, you have placed 
me at the head of your house ; I have prayed only 
to you; your protection is due; come to my aid: in 
my time of need I would speak thus to God, and he 
would hear me." And God did hear her; for the 
community were often witness to the most extraor- 
dinary results which attended her prayers in mo- 
ments of distress when even bread was wanting— 



166 LIFE OF 

results which appeared absolutely miraculous. The 
Archbishop revered her as a saint worthy of the first 
ages of the church; and when some persons once re- 
lated to him a marvellous fact which seemed to have 
been consequent upon her prayers, expressing their 
belief that it was a perfect miracle, " I am not sur- 
prised at what you tell me," he replied, " but I 
should indeed be astonished if a person so holy did 
not perform miracles." 

Another object which excited the particular in- 
terest of M. de Cheverus, was the hospitals for the 
various victims of human misery. His visits to them 
were frequent, for the purpose of offering consola- 
tion and assistance to their wretched inmates. As 
for the sisters of charity by whom they were tended, 
he had no words to express the feelings of esteem 
and regard which they awakened in his breast; and 
whenever one of them asked his blessing, he was 
always, he said, desirous of receiving hers: "for how 
full of benedictions must those hands be which are 
consecrated to works of charity." They never failed 
to obtain from him whatever they wished; and as 
he openly professed his inability to refuse them 
aught, he prayed them on that account to be discreet 
in their requests, and reflect well upon them previ- 
ously before God. So far did he carry his respect 
for these admirable women, that if, while preaching 
any where, he perceived one of them among his au- 
dience, he was sure, whatever was the subject of his 
discourse, not to finish without an eulogium upon the 
daughters of St. Vincent de Paul. " They are," he 
used to say, " the greatest glory of religion, the mas- 
ter-piece of grace, the most sensible proof of the divi- 
nity of the Catholic faith." He often mentioned the 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 167 

fact that the Protestants in America having com- 
plained of the hospitals being entrusted to the sisters 
of charity, their mouths were closed by the reply, 
that their complaints would be heard whenever their 
ministers had formed angels similar to the sisters in 
disinterestedness, in zeal, in compassion and affec- 
tion for all who suffer. 

The necessity of leaving his diocese and going to 
Paris every year to attend the session of the cham- 
ber of peers, was a constant source of regret to M. 
de Cheverus. He repaid, himself, for the good he 
was prevented from doing at Bordeaux, by effecting 
all that he could in the capital; and thence he go- 
verned his see. All matters were sent to him there, 
with the opinions of the council upon each, for his 
decision. There he transacted with the different 
members of the cabinet, all the business which con- 
cerned religion within the scope of his administra- 
tion, nor did he disdain to take charge of affairs of 
other kinds, in order to render a service; and he even 
descended to (he details of agencies which would 
have seemed beneath the dignity of a peer and an 
Archbishop, had they not been elevated and enno- 
bled by their charitable motive. If he was invited 
to preach, he always manifested that willingness to 
oblige which knows not how to refuse. On one day 
alone he pronounced no less than seventeen different 
discourses for the benediction of that number of 
statues of Greek and Latin fathers erected in the 
country house of the seminary of St. Nicholas, at 
Conflans; and the accurateness with which he des- 
cribed the characters, the writings, the virtues, and 
the actions of each of the fathers, the knowledge of 
history he displayed, and the grace and fluency of 



168 LIFE OP 

his elocution, proved that his talents and his learn- 
ing were not inferior to his goodness. The most de- 
licate and difficult circumstances for a preacher never 
arrested him for a moment, the accomplishment of 
good and not his reputation as an orator, being his 
only care. On several occasions of that sort, the 
acuteness of his intellect, assisted by the blessing 
which God ever bestows upon such dispositions of 
heart, obtained the most consoling success. He was 
requested to preach one Good-Friday before the 
Polytechnic School, an undertaking which his friends 
were apprehensive he would not be able to achieve, 
as the year before a distinguished Archbishop had 
been forced, by the tumultuous conduct of the pupils, 
to leave the pulpit, notwithstanding his eloquence 
and illustrious birth. M. de Cheverus, however, 
went, and choosing for his text these words of the 
Apostle — "I determined not to know any thing 
among you save Jesus Christ, and him crucified;" — 
Non judicavi me scire aliquid inter vos nisi Jesum 
Christum et hunc crucifixum — began as follows: "If 
it were incumbent upon me to speak of human 
sciences, it would be to this learned school, it would 
be to yourselves, gentlemen, that I should come to 
be taught; but it is my duty to-day to speak of the 
science of the cross; this is my particular science, the 
science which I have studied and preached for forty 
years among savage tribes as well as in civilized 
countries, because it is equally suited to all; and you 
will permit an old Bishop to communicate to you the 
fruit of his protracted studies." This insinuating 
exordium won all hearts. The most perfect silence, 
the most earnest attention, the liveliest interest, wel- 
comed all the words of the "old Bishop;" and he 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 169 

left the young men as well pleased with them as they 
were with him. 

Some time afterwards he was asked to preach at 
the Irish Seminary; but as the pupils there were im- 
perfectly acquainted with French, his sermon was 
given in English. The way in which he acquitted 
himself showed that he had lost none of his know- 
ledge of the latter since his departure from America. 
No less successful was a charity sermon which he 
preached before a large assemblage of ladies of the 
court, the object of which was to recommend to the 
generosity of his hearers the Vendean families who 
had been reduced to distress by the calamities of war. 
His text was the words of the Psalmist, " Posside 
Jilios mortijicatorum — Take care of the children of 
the dead;" but just as he was about to begin, it was 
announced to him that the Dauphiness and the 
Duchess of Berry were coming to hear his discourse. 
The intelligence disconcerted him somewhat at first. 
Etiquette required some complimentary allusions to 
the princesses, and perhaps also a particular way of 
presenting his facts; but he had no time for reflec- 
tion. Recovering himself speedily, he spoke with so 
much appositeness and tact, said so gracefully and 
easily all that was suitable, that he was subsequent- 
ly complimented by the king himself. The monarch 
had heard of his sermon before the Irish Seminary,, 
and congratulated him, the first time he saw him 
afterwards, upon his facility in speaking English: 
" Sire," he replied, " I have little merit in what your 
majesty is pleased to praise; for English, I am 
ashamed to say in the presence of the king of France, 
is more familiar to me than French." "Yet you 
preach well in French," returned Charles, " for the 

15 



170 LIFE OF 

Dauphiness heard you the other day and was charm- 
ed with your discourse." 

The king was very fond of conversing with M. 
de Cheverus. Wearied with the hostile imputations 
which were incessantly thrown out against his go- 
vernment in the name of liberty, he one day ques- 
tioned him about the United States, and received a 
full account of the freedom which is there accorded 
to religion and education. " There," said the Arch- 
bishop, alluding to the complaints of certain journals 
of the period, " there I could have established mis- 
sions in every church, founded seminaries in every 
quarter, and confided them to the care of Jesuits, 
without any one thinking of saying aught against my 
proceedings; all opposition to them would have been 
regarded as an act of despotism and a violation of 
right. There I could have refused burial to any one 
unworthy of it, and the idea of compelling me to give 
it, would have appeared ridiculous." " That peo- 
ple, at least," sighed the king, "understands liberty; 
when will it be understood among us?" They often 
talked afterwards about the happiness of France, the 
means of securing it, and the obstacles in its way; 
and such was the esteem which Charles X. conceived 
for M. de Cheverus in these conversations that he de- 
termined to solicit a Cardinal's hat for him from the 
Holy See. The execution, however, of the project 
was suspended by the change of ministry, and the 
embarrassments in the government which soon after- 
wards occurred. A letter dated the 25th February, 
1836, from an ex-minister of Charles, referring to this 
matter, was found among the papers of the Arch- 
bishop, in which the writer says — " I regret, for the 
sake of those who possess and always will possess 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 171 

my affections, that you were not made a Cardinal 
seven years ago. I wish you at all events to be in- 
formed, that such was the desire of the prince who 
honoured me with his confidence, and I need not add 
that it was that also of his ministers." 

It was not only at Court that the merit of the Arch- 
bishop of Bordeaux was appreciated. His society 
was universally sought. Many of the peers were in 
the habit of visiting him at his hotel, and inviting him 
to their entertainments, at which he sometimes ap- 
peared; but he was careful never to be seen at the 
political meetings of the opposition. " It is not in 
harmony," he used to say,." with my character, and 
still less with my heart, to oppose the government; I 
wish to serve it fairly, to aid it with my co-operation, 
and not to throw impediments in its path." If, how- 
ever, he had some enjoyments during his sojourn at 
Paris, they were more than counterbalanced by vari- 
ous disagreeable circumstances. The first of these 
was his selection by Charles X. to preside at the 
electoral college of Mayenne. In sending the electors 
of that district a president so beloved and revered, the 
king imagined that they would be induced, by their 
regard for him, to choose a deputy friendly to the 
government. M. de Cheverus, however, who knew 
the bent of their minds, far from flattering himself 
with the hope of success, despaired of executing his 
mission to the satisfaction of the king. It required, 
therefore, all his obedience, duty, and devotion to the 
person of his sovereign, to overcome his reluctance 
to undertake the task. He acquitted himself of it 
with the fidelity expected from him, and depicted in 
energetic colours to the electors the character of the 
deputy he wished to obtain. " I do not pretend." he 



172 LIFEOF 

said to them, "to dictate what should be your choice: 
I am here only to ascertain and proclaim it; but I 
should do violence to myself and wrong to you, if I 
did not tell you that I desire the selection of a deputy 
who is a friend to religion, to legitimacy, to the mon- 
archy, to the king and his august family — of a deputy 
thoroughly convinced that the charter and our insti- 
tutions have especial need, for the security of our 
freedom and happiness, of a powerful, paternal, and 
tutelary authority capable of upholding and protect- 
ing them against the assaults of licentiousness— of a 
deputy, in a word, whose truly loyal heart beats in 
unison with ours, with feelings of gratitude and love 
at the very name of our beloved sovereign, Charles 
X." As he had foreseen^ however, his efforts were 
futile; and the deputy elected took his seat on the 
bench of the opposition. M. de Cheverus returned to 
Paris on the termination of his mission, and was met 
there by troubles and trials far more painful to his 
heart. 

The most violent complaints at that time were rife 
against the Jesuits and the priest-party ', as it was 
styled. The public prints, and even the tribunes of 
the two legislative assemblies, resounded with them 
day after day. Charles X. at length deemed it indis- 
pensable to sacrifice the Jesuits, in order to save the 
rest of the clergy, and impose restrictions upon the 
minor seminaries to prevent them from being totally 
destroyed. At the first news of this resolve, the whole 
prelacy was thrown into consternation, and the Arch- 
bishop of Bordeaux shared in their affliction. He was 
about to lose the Jesuits who had done so much good 
in his diocese ; he was about to lose one of his minor 
seminaries; and for the whole of religious France he 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 173 

discerned the most unhappy consequences from the 
measure. All the Archbishops and bishops who were 
at Paris, repaired to the court and portrayed to the 
king the greatness of the evil he was about to inflict 
upon religion, employing every argument to ward 
off the blow with which they were menaced . But 
Charles X. had taken his resolution. He deemed the 
measure requisite for the peace of the State; and on 
the 16th of June, 1828, he signed the two ordinances 
by which the Jesuits were excluded from the educa- 
tion of youth, and restrictions were imposed upon the 
minor seminaries. A universal outcry followed. The 
Catholics of France were filled with alarm; and the 
bishops knew not what steps to take. Many of them 
protested against the proceeding, in the belief that 
the resistence of the prelacy might prevent the exe- 
cution of the ordinances. Others, among whom was 
the Archbishop of Bordeaux, deeming the mischief 
done, considered the opposition of the prelates as use- 
less for the object of inducing the government to re- 
trace its steps, and only calculated to entail the total 
destruction of the minor seminaries. They therefore 
thought it better, as it would be necessary sooner or 
later to submit or annihilate the priesthood by caus- 
ing the theological schools to be closed, to yield at 
once, without irritating their enemies to further vio- 
lence. 

The latter opinion, however, although it was sub- 
sequently justified by facts, attracted at first a great 
deal of censure. Instead of examining the reasons 
on which it was founded, the complainants listened 
only to their regrets for what they were about to 
lose, to an unreflecting love for what is abstractly 

right, and to the deceitful commentaries of certain 

15* 



174 LIFE OP 

journals; and thence concluded that those who re- 
fused to protest against the ordinances were actuated 
by a hatred of the Jesuits, and a willingness to sacri- 
fice the minor seminaries to a disgraceful feeling of 
pusillanimity. The Archbishop of Bordeaux was 
greatly pained at seeing his conduct so mis-con- 
ceived, and his sentiments so misrepresented. Ne- 
vertheless, strong in the testimony of his conscience, 
he allowed himself to be neither cast down, nor 
shaken in his course. Writing to one of his grand 
vicars, he said — " In all this business I have con- 
sulted God, my conscience, and individuals who, in 
dignity, wisdom,, and piety, are unsurpassed. During 
the course of my life, I have been so often praised 
without cause, that I ought not to complain if I am 
now blamed in the same way. If I am to be hum- 
bled, I will bless the Almighty, and return with joy 
to the obscurity from which, God knows, I was drawn 
in despite of myself. I embrace all my friends; as- 
suring them that although their feelings should change 
towards me, I will never cease to love them." His 
conduct corresponded with these sentiments. He 
sought neither to justify himself, nor to make his 
opinion prevail. He was not chagrined at others not 
thinking with him, and felt no less regard for them 
on that account. Contradiction he bore in silence, 
and one day an individual whose zeal was more ar- 
dent than his charity, having allowed himself to cast 
severe reproaches upon his behaviour, and even to 
use language of an insulting tenor, he suffered him to 
go on without interruption, and when he had finished, 
only remarked in a tone of perfect mildness: " I thank 
God, Sir, for having given me the grace not to answer 
you in the style in which you have spoken." 



ARCHBISHOP GHEVERUS. 175 

The Jesuits were more just towards M. de Cheve- 
rus, and did homage to the sentiments he had dis- 
played in regard to them. They themselves pro- 
claimed from the pulpit the many proofs of affection 
which he had given them, and poured forth their 
grief at being separated from a prelate by whom they 
were so beloved. In truth, M. de Cheverus always 
had loved the Jesuits. They had been his friends in 
America, and it was from their society that he had 
solicited the Holy See to choose bishops for the 
United Stafes. He had depicted them to the Pope as 
priests whose eminent merit, whose piety towards 
God, whose zeal for the salvation of souls, and 
whose indefatigable spirit of labour, were above all 
praise — as apostles who had planted the faith in that 
country, and watered it with the sweat of their brows, 
and who had always continued to maintain and to 
propagate it there. At Bordeaux, also, he was in the 
habit of visiting the seminary, and giving them every 
testimonial of esteem and regard. At their departure 
he publicly expressed the grief which he felt at their 
loss, and to keep at least some of them, he offered 
them a house near his palace, and bestowed upon 
them an annual income of six thousand francs. He 
did more. To preserve their seminary for them in 
case of a change of circumstances permitting them to 
resume the duties of instruction, he transported thither 
at considerable expense and inconvenience, all the pu- 
pils of the theological establishment at Bazas. " This 
displacement," he said, "costs a great deal, and is not 
agreeable to the young men; it has but the single 
advantage of showing how much I love the Jesuits." 
In the midst of those trials, however, which God 
permits to prove and to purify the virtue of his chil- 



176 LIFE OF 

dren, M. de Cheverus continued to labour earnestly 
for the welfare of his diocese. By his directions 
zealous priests spread themselves through the less reli- 
gious parishes, evangelizing the inhabitants, and mak- 
ing them understand the religion of which they were 
either ignorant or entirely neglectful; and when their 
ignorance was once dissipated, when the love of vir- 
tue was breathed into their souls with the knowledge 
of truth, then the Archbishop repaired to the spot, 
finished by the authority and unction of his sermons 
what his missionaries had begun, and distributed to 
the people the bread of angels and the grace of con- 
firmation. At other times the pastors themselves 
prepared their flocks for his visits. These were ge- 
nerally made in winter, when the inhabitants were 
less engaged in the labours of the field, and had more 
leisure for the performance of religious duties. The 
journey then was often of the most painful kind, from 
the excessive cold and the piercing wind which in 
the uncultivated part of the diocese bordering on the 
sea, meets no impediment to its violence. But no 
personal considerations ever arrested M. de Cheve- 
rus, or induced him to select a more agreeable pe- 
riod for his visits. " What would be more convenient 
for me," he used to say, " would be less so for the 
poor; it is my duty to choose the time which suits 
them the best." The peasants themselves could not 
repress their astonishment at his courageous zeal. 
" What a wonder," cried a poor woman in her sim- 
ple language, which we will be pardoned for repeat- 
ing, " what a wonder to see a man like that, in a 
country like that, in weather like that."* Nor was a 

* " Quelle merveille de voir un homme comme 5a dans un pays 
comrae §a, par un temps comme 5a!" 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 177 

word of complaint ever heard from the Archbishop 
amid all the hardships incident to these journeys; 
and when any one else seemed to complain, he 
would make some pleasant remark, or lead the con- 
versation to the subject of the poor, who, without 
fire, ill-clothed, and badly fed, were alone, he said, 
objects of commiseration and pity. 

He returned from these apostolic expeditions only 
to resume his zealous labours at Bordeaux — carry- 
ing consolation, assistance, and the graces of his min- 
istry wherever required, and seeking with unwearied 
assiduity the occasions of affording them. There 
was one species of visits in which his charity was 
displayed in a manner peculiarly edifying — those 
which he made to the sick or infirm priests of his dio- 
cese, on whom he lavished every care and benefit 
with especial fervor. Within the precincts of his pa- 
lace he did no less good than out of doors. As he 
was accessible to all persons at all hours of the day, 
he was consulted in every difficult and delicate emer- 
gency. Timorous souls came to him to reveal their 
disquietudes and troubles of conscience; and men 
who had long been neglectful of every religious duty, 
or even unfixed in their faith, opened their hearts to 
him, related their difficulties and remorse, the obsta- 
cles which impeded, and the doubts which agitated 
them, and in return received from him the instruction 
and counsels and encouragement they needed. If 
they desired it, he would also hear their confessions, 
and after the requisite trial, would reconcile them to 
God and the church. Those who had devoted them- 
selves to good works, he welcomed with especial re- 
gard. Viewing them as the co-operators of his minis- 
try, he deemed himself happy in doing whatever 



178 LIFE OP 

they wished. Of this disposition "the Ladies of the 
Mission/' an edifying association founded at Bor- 
deaux in 1817, were often favoured with signal 
proofs. Those excellent women have an establish- 
ment in which a large number of young female or- 
phans are reared and educated in the knowledge ap- 
propriate to their state. Charmed with their bene- 
volence, M. de Cheverus frequently preached to them 
in the chapel which belonged to the episcopal palace, 
explaining the duties of a Christian woman in the 
midst of the world, and inculcating right notions 
upon the subject of genuine piety. 

Whilst thus engaged, the Archbishop received a 
new assistant, dear to him by more than one title — 
his nephew, the Abbe George, who, after passing 
four years in the seminary of St. Sulpice, at Paris, 
in the study of theological science and the practice of 
piety, had been elevated to the priesthood. He felt 
for this young man all the tenderness of a father for 
his child; but he would not allow the voice of affec- 
tion and blood to influence him to any concession in 
his favour, and he caused him to perform the duties 
and submit to all the obligations of a parish vicar. 
After a time the metropolitan chapter wishing to en- 
rol among its members a priest who seemed worthy 
of the honour, begged the Archbishop to name him 
at least an honorary canon, but to no purpose. He 
thanked them for their good feeling, but replied that 
his nephew had not yet laboured enough to merit 
that distinction, and that he had too good an opinion 
of him to suppose he desired it himself. 

To the pleasure derived by M. de Cheverus from 
the society of his nephew, was soon afterwards added 
another which recalled the happy days of his youth. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 179 

The Abbe Maccarthy, his former friend and fellow 
student, who had become the most distinguished pul- 
pit orator of France, visited Bordeaux, to preach 
during advent. A delightful spectacle was then ex- 
hibited in the frank and affectionate friendship which, 
after so long a period, again united the Archbishop 
and the Jesuit father. Their intercourse was marked 
by an ease, a simplicity, a gaiety, and a cordiality, 
(which, however, never degenerated into familiarity, 
the high esteem they entertained for each other for- 
bidding it,) that were perfectly charming. They 
talked over old times at the seminary, consulted one 
another upon various matters, and with regard to 
the sermons of the preacher, the Archbishop would 
tell him without reserve or flattery, all that he 
thought of their plan and composition. 

Meanwhile M. de Cheverus was not lost sight of 
at court. Charles X. seized every occasion of show- 
ing him his confidence and esteem. He had already 
offered him the post of minister of ecclesiastical affairs, 
which the Archbishop had refused in the most per- 
emptory manner, both from his disinclination to 
greatness, and the indications he beheld of the storm 
which was soon to burst upon France — a storm that 
he had no hopes of being able to allay. In Novem- 
ber, 1828, he had been appointed a counsellor of 
state, with authority to take part in the deliberations 
of the council, and the labours of the committee of 
which it consists; and in 1830, he was honoured with 
one of the highest titles which a king of France can 
confer, by being named a commander of the order of 
the Holy Ghost. This nomination which he received 
in common with M. de Quelen, the Archbishop of 
Paris, was remarkable for being the last made by 



ISO LIFE OF 

Charles X. M. de Peyronnet, then minister of the 
interior, was charged with the annunciation of his 
new dignity to M. de Cheverus, and performed the 
duty with especial delight, as he loved as much as he 
esteemed him. More than once he had poured into 
his bosom, with all the unreserve and confidence of 
friendship, the cares and solicitudes by which he was 
torn, and had found there the tenderest interest, the 
wisest advice, the most soothing consolation. Alas! 
he foresaw not all the afflictions which were soon to 
be heaped on his head. " The blue ribbon," he said 
in his letter to M. de Cheverus, " will add nothing to 
your virtues and your merits ; but it will prove that 
the king knows them, loves them, and takes pleasure 
in honouring them." The Archbishop received the 
intelligence with gratitude for the goodness of the 
king, but with indifference as regarded himself. He 
was absorbed at the time in his apprehensions of the 
impending storm, and could find no room for satis- 
faction in a heart that was filled with sadness. " We 
have fallen," was his remark, "on such evil days ; 
society is in so critical a state, that one must have 
lost every sentiment of charity to be occupied with 
personal concerns; the public misfortunes ought alone 
to affect us." At the great news of the capture of 
Algiers by the French army, which soon afterwards 
reached Bordeaux, he rejoiced like all good French- 
men and friends of humanity; but his joy was not a 
feeling of triumph. The victory achieved abroad ap- 
peared to him no guarantee of internal peace, and the 
issue proved that his forebodings were but too cor- 
rect. 



181 



BOOK IV. 

LIFE OF CARDINAL DE CHEVERUS FROM THE REVOLUTION 
OF JULY, 1S30, TO HIS LAST ILLNESS. 

We have now arrived at the last epoch of the 
life of M. de Cheverus. Like all the rest, it was 
fruitful in good works, in tribulations, and in tes- 
timonials of the esteem and veneration of the world. 
In the midst of the troubles that agitated France 
in the year 1830, the first thing by which the Arch- 
bishop of Bordeaux signalized his wisdom, was the 
peace which he succeeded in preserving in his 
diocese, the perfect tranquillity which he enabled 
his clergy without exception to enjoy, as in the 
most prosperous times. The new authorities esta- 
blished at Bordeaux were filled, like their prede- 
cessors, with that profound respect which was the 
universal sentiment towards him, and made it an 
honour and a duty to consult and to act with him 
for the public good. He received their advances with 
pleasure, and sought to turn to the advantage of re- 
ligion, the consideration and regard which were felt 
for his person. The most excellent understanding 
was established, at least from the year 1831, between 
the authorities and himself, as well as between the 
various branches of the former. A more intimate 
union, a more harmonious concert of views and 
efforts, could not have been desired ; and it was the 
Archbishop who was the soul of the concert, the 

bond of the union, the centre in which all hearts were 

16 



182 LIFE OF 

blended. Thence resulted the remarkable circum- 
stance, that whilst the rest of France was in a state 
of disturbance and trouble, whilst almost every- 
where else the soil was trembling, so to speak, be- 
neath the tread, the diocese of Bordeaux was always 
peaceful and calm, its clergy honoured and respected, 
its Archbishop revered and beloved. Every measure, 
even the most trifling, for the public welfare, was 
adopted in concert with him. He was made to pre- 
side at all the deliberations; and all matters in which 
a member of the priesthood was in the least concern- 
ed, were submitted entirely to his decision, so much 
was it feared to give him pain by taking any step 
that might be disagreeable to him. 

The same regard that was felt for M. de Cheverus 
at Bordeaux, was also cherished for him at Paris. 
His advice continued to be received there with defe- 
rence, and exert a powerful influence. Reserved as 
he was, and little inclined to mix in affairs which 
were not immediately under his charge, he made lit- 
tle use of the credit he possessed; but when he did 
employ it, it was almost always with success, and 
for the welfare of religion and the Church. It is well 
known that during the first months of the Revolu- 
tion, it was in contemplation to impose upon pastors, 
as well as upon public functionaries, an oath of 
fidelity to the new government. On learning the 
fact, M. de Cheverus wrote at once to an influential 
personage, representing to him that the measure was 
equally impolitic and improper, that it would embar- 
rass the government, would bring the clergy into 
trouble, would alarm the people, and that a division 
would ensue like that of the juring and non-juring 
priests of the first revolution. "I will answer for my 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 183 

clergy," he said, " if the oath is not demanded; other- 
wise I can answer for nothing." His letter was sub- 
mitted to the king, and had the desired effect. It was 
forthwith resolved that the oath should not be ex- 
acted; and the Archbishop of Bordeaux had the 
consolation of rendering an incalculable service to 
the Church of France. 

The high consideration every where enjoyed by 
M. de Cheverus, inspired several members of the 
government with the desire of restoring him to his 
dignity of peer of France, of which he had been de- 
prived by the revolution, and recalling him to Paris 
to take part in the new order of things. The depu- 
ties of the Gironde, it appears, had already earnestly 
solicited the favour of power in his behalf; and he 
had every reason to fear that he would be snatched 
from his retirement. Apprehensive that the repug- 
nance he had manifested when sounded upon the 
subject, would not be sufficient to prevent the designs 
which might be formed in regard to him, he deter- 
mined to arrest all proceedings of the kind at once, 
by publishing in the Parisian journals a solemn de- 
claration, in which he announced his firm resolve to 
accept no place in the State, to live and die in the 
midst of his flock, and devote himself exclusively to 
his ministerial functions.* 

* Declaration of the Archbishop of Bordeaux. 

"Without approving- the exclusion pronounced against the peers 
created by Charles X., I have rejoiced to find myself out of the po- 
litical path, and have taken a firm resolution never to re-enter it, 
never to accept either function or place. I wish to remain among 
my flock, and continue to exercise my vocation of charity, union, and 
peace. I will preach submission to the government, I will set the 



IS4 LIFE OF 

It is well worthy of remark, that although the 
Archbishop was every where loved and honoured, 
and courted; that although the new government, like 
the old one, was eager to attach him to its service; 
he had never done any thing with the view of ob- 
taining this lofty consideration. He had purchased 
it by no concession which he did not make in com- 
mon with the whole episcopal body; he had intrigued 
for it in no way whatever; he never spoke to the king 
(Louis Phillippe) before the day he received the in- 
signia of Cardinal, nor appeared in Paris until the 
ceremony of his installation obliged him to go there; 
he had even permitted himself to do many acts which 
might have displeased the government: his declara- 
tion, in particular, and the publicity he had given to 
it, had been censured by many, and the authorities of 
Bordeaux had even called upon him to complain of 
it. During the imprisonment of the Duchess of Berry 
in the citadel of Blaye, he had asked permission to 
carry her the consolations of his ministry; and, in 
fine, he had never dissembled his sentiments towards 
Charles X. " I should not be worthy of your esteem," 
he told the authorities of the city, "if I concealed from 
you my affection for the deposed family; and you 
would despise me as an ingrate, knowing that I had 
been loaded with benefits by Charles X." 

example; and my clergy and myself will never cease to pray in con- 
junction with our people, for the welfare of our beloved country. 

" I feel myself more and more attached to the people of Bordeaux. I 
thank them for the friendship they have shown me. The wish of my 
heart is to live and die in the midst of them, without any other titles 
than those of their Archbishop and friend. 

t JOHN 
Archbishop of Bordeaux. 
Bordeaux, 19 August, 1830." 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 185 

But there was one trait in the character of M. de 
Cheverus which extorted esteem and confidence and 
veneration — a boundless charity, wbjch embraced 
men of all parties in one feeling of love, constituted 
his whole policy. It never entered into his head that 
any one should be less loved because he has an opi- 
nion or a mode of viewing a matter different from 
our own, as if he ceased on that account to be our 
brother in Jesus Christ, and were no longer com- 
prised in the great precept: Love ye one another as 
I have loved you. He consequently behaved with 
equal kindness to men of all parties, seeing in them 
only diocesans, brethren, and friends; and it was his 
happiness to behold all opinions fraternizing at his 
table, or those of his priests in his pastoral visits. He 
would then delight to repeat his cherished maxim, 
like his patron St. John: "Let us love one another. 
If minds are divided in opinion, let all our hearts be 
confounded in the sentiment of mutual charity ; let 
us be all united." No one could avoid admiring this 
policy, breathing, as it did, the whole spirit of the 
Bible ; and M. de Cheverus had no other. 

As he had passed twenty-seven years in America, 
living happily and tranquilly under a republican go- 
vernment, which considered him one of its best citi- 
zens, many supposed him to be a partisan of liberal 
institutions. But he never allowed himself to med- 
dle with theories as to the best form of government, 
esteeming these high social questions " much beyond 
the reach of his intellect," and professing "to know 
nothing about them."* In practice, he adhered to 

* These were his own expressions. As to the system of liberty 
in the United States, he always avowed himself pleased with it ; but 

16* 



186 LIFE OF 

the general principle followed by the church at every 
period, to respect the established government, what- 
ever it might be, and to preserve with it the best 
possible understanding,* since religion and society 
both gain from the concord of the two powers, as 
much as they suffer by their disunion. Feeling that 
as a Bishop he ought to be the pastor, the father, and 
the friend of all alike, called as he was to labour for 
the salvation of all, he was anxious to efface every 
mark of the politician, so that all might look upon 
him in a friendly light. Thence the silence always 
observed at the episcopal palace on the subject of 
politics, which he never adverted to, nor allowed to 
be mentioned in his presence. Thence his care ne- 
ver to allude to it, directly or indirectly, in his pub- 
lic discourses, except on two occasions, when he 

at the same time he maintained that to introduce it into France with 
the ideas and habits that prevailed there, would be to ensure the reign 
of anarchy and confusion: " In France," he said, "they do not com- 
prehend what liberty is ; they desire liberty for themselves and those 
who think with them, but oppression and fetters for the rest, espe- 
cially for the clergy." 

* The observance of this principle is a striking fact in the history 
of the church : See, amongst other examples, First, what is related in 
the History of the Gallican Church, (vol. i. b. 2, year 383,) of the 
conduct of the Bishops of Spain and Gaul, and of St. Martin himself 
towards the tyrant Maximus ; Second, the letter of St. Ambrose to 
the tyrant Eugenius, who had caused Valentinian the Younger to be 
assassinated, and usurped his throne ; Third, the letter of St. Gre- 
gory the Great to Phocas, who had massacred the emperor Maurice, 
with his wife and children, and what is related by Henry of the con- 
duct of that holy Pope on the occasion ; Fourth, the proces-verbaux 
of the assemblies of the clergy of France, vol. iii. p. 686, and also 
their Pieces justificatives, p. 90, 91, which contain the remarkable 
answer of Gregory XIII. that subsequently became the rule of con- 
duct with the Holy See. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 187 

deemed himself compelled by the force of circum- 
stances, to swerve from his rule. He preached no- 
thing but the Scriptures and charity; he was the man 
of God revealing the mysteries of heaven, and ex- 
pounding its laws; never the man of the world, de- 
grading the words of divine wisdom to a level with 
those of human folly, by casting them into the whirl- 
wind of opinions, in which the children of the earth 
are forever involved. 

What he practised so well he endeavoured unceas- 
ingly to inculcate upon his priests. " Regrets are 
permitted to us — " such were his lessons — "we owe 
an account of our affections only to God, and the 
heart is a sanctuary where men have naught to be- 
hold; but we are responsible for both our words and 
deeds : let us be careful, then, to say nothing and to 
do nothing which may furnish a hold upon us. The 
clergy should keep themselves aloof from all political 
passions, to be qualified for the due fulfilment of their 
mission of charity and peace, whatever the form of 
government may be : no party, either now or at any 
time, should look upon us as enemies, since we are 
called to save men of every party." 

Charity blended with prudence was thus the guide 
of M. de Cheverus in both his precepts and deport- 
ment; and thanks to the inspirations of the two vir- 
tues, he was enabled subsequently to the year 1830, 
as before, to devote himself in peace to the perform- 
ance of good works. He undertook new ones, and 
did not neglect the old ones; on the latter the only 
effect produced by the revolution was that of dimi- 
nishing his alms, by depriving him of twenty-two 
thousand livres of revenue, in consequence of the re- 
trenchments made in the chambers in the salaries of 



188 LIFE OF 

the clergy. Nevertheless, in order that the poor 
might suffer as little as possible from this diminution 
of his income, he curtailed his expenses in every fea- 
sible way. He retained but one domestic to serve 
him in church, in his journeys, and in the interior of 
his palace; reduced his table, which was always fru- 
gal, as much as his position would admit, and refused 
himself conveniences which might seem indispensa- 
ble, choosing to endure privations himself rather than 
allow the poor to suffer. 

He would not, however, allow his clergy to be de- 
barred from his table for a single day. "Though I 
should have but a morsel of bread," he said to them, 
" I would invite you to share it with me." He even 
continued to invite laymen in the same numbers as 
before; and fixed his dinner-hour at noon in order to 
accommodate his priests, many of whom were obliged 
to return before evening to parishes at a considera- 
ble distance, as well as to be enabled, notwithstand- 
ing the decrease of his means, to receive the rich and 
the great, (to whom he offered his modest repast as a 
breakfast,) and thereby preserve the most intimate 
relations with all the inhabitants of his diocese. It 
was a pleasure to him to see the opulent abandoning 
their sumptuous tables to partake of his simple fare. 
Especially did he delight to welcome those whom 
the revolution of July had deprived of their rank and 
influence. " When you were in power," he would 
say to them, " I saw you rarely and ceremoniously, 
because it might have been thought I was seeking 
favours at your hands : now we meet often in the 
most intimate way, because you are in adversity, 
and the heart alone can preside over our relations." 

The government, which could not be ignorant of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 189 

the circumstance, took no offence at it, and it was 
afterwards ascertained that at the period in question 
the king had the intention of asking a Cardinal's hat 
for the Archbishop. But the occupation of Ancona 
by the French troops having greatly displeased the 
Pope, and given rise to protracted negotiations, it 
was necessary to renounce every request for a favour, 
and the nomination of M. de Cheverus was in conse- 
quence indefinitely postponed. 

In the meantime the Archbishop was occupied 
with cares much dearer to his heart than all the 
grandeurs and dignities of the earth. Considering 
the future destinies of France as essentially depen- 
dent upon the education given in the colleges to that 
portion of the youth whose social position may one 
day call them to the different posts of the state, he 
made arrangements with the proviseur of the Royal 
College, a priest no less respectable for his firmness 
and prudence than his zeal and erudition, to bring 
piety and religion into honour in his establishment. 
He sent, in the first place, one of his priests to hold 
grave and argumentative conferences with the stu- 
dents on the proofs and dogmas of Christianity; and 
shortly afterwards the office of almoner of the college 
having become vacant, he offered it to several of the 
most learned priests of his diocese, and on their de- 
clining it, he bestowed it upon his nephew, the Abbe 
George. That worthy individual devoted himself 
with his whole soul to the great work, assisted zeal- 
ously and constantly by his uncle. The latter, to en- 
courage the pupils, made a walk to his country-seat 
a recompense for those who corresponded with his 
wishes, by preparing for them their games, refresh- 
ments, and whatever could minister to the enjoyment 



190 LIFE OF 

of a party of pleasure. He also went himself to the 
college to give instructions, and every year celebrated 
the feast of its patron saint, presided at the first com- 
munion, and on each occasion addressed the young 
men in discourses which he always adapted to the 
character of their studies. Sometimes he would show 
them, in imitation of St. Basil, the advantage which 
a Christian may and should derive from the perusal 
of profane authors; sometimes, when preaching on a 
point of morality, he would support his doctrine by 
whatever had been most wisely said in regard to the 
subject by the Greek and Latin poets and orators. 
" These are my holy fathers," he was wont laugh- 
ingly to remark, " when I preach at the college." In 
fact, his discourses were steeped, so to speak, in the 
books which the students had in their hands, and de- 
monstrated that he was as familiar with them in his 
later years, as he had been in the days of his youth. 
So much labour and effort, seconded as they were 
by the zeal of the proviseur, could not fail to produce 
fruit. Such was the success attending them, that the 
Royal College of Bordeaux became a perfect house 
of edification — a school in which religion was not 
only respected but practised, so much so that the 
last time he went there, M. de Cheverus distributed 
holy communion to no less than one hundred and 
forty of the students, all animated with the truest 
sentiments of faith and devotion, all bearing on their 
countenances the most expressive evidence of the 
happy feelings with which their breasts were filled. 
The spectacle moved the Archbishop to tears, and 
when in the evening after the ceremony, one of the 
students addressed him in a discourse expressive of 
the general gratitude, he could only answer with 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 191 

fresh tears. " My dear children," he said, " my an- 
swer flows from my eyes."* He blessed them, and 
retired, declaring that that was one of the most de- 
lightful and consoling days of his episcopal life. 

The zeal of M. de Cheverus for the good educa- 
tion of youth, did not disdain to descend to the hum- 
blest and most irksome duties. Having learnt that 
at the normal school of mutual instruction, a Pro- 
testant minister was giving lessons to the pupils un- 
der the title of professor of religious morality, and 
foreseeing difficulties, or at least delays in getting rid 
of this dangerous teacher and putting a Catholic 
priest in his place, he undertook himself the task of 
giving instructions at the establishment several times 
a week in religious morality, that is to say, in the 
catechism, the only true and sure foundation of mo- 
rals; and this humble ministry he performed with 
such scrupulous exactness, that one day being pre- 
vented by the sitting of a council at the episcopal 
palace, from attending at the precise moment, he 
wrote to the master of the school to inform him that 
important business would oblige him to defer his 
lesson for a quarter of an hour.t 

* Mes chers enfans, ma reports e coule de mes yeux. Is not that 
as beautiful a piece of eloquence and poetry as was almost ever 
uttered?— TV. 

f It is to be hoped that this incident will not be considered an evi- 
dence of what is called bigotry in M. de Cheverus, especially after the 
proofs that have been furnished of his tolerant nature, for there never 
was a man whose whole career breathed more truly the spirit of the 
beautiful invocation: 

" Peace be to all, whate'er their varying creeds, 
" To all who send up holy thoughts on high !" 
But he was a conscientious, unswerving believer in the faith he pro- 
fessed, and whilst he both viewed ^nd treated those who differed 



192 LIFEOP 

The breaking out of the cholera in France gave 
a new impulse to the zeal and benevolence of M. de 
Cheverus. Every where dread was felt of being sur- 
prised by the scourge, and every where preparations 
were industriously made against its arrival. In Bor- 
deaux hospitals were established in the different quar- 
ters of the city. The only one where a suitable house 
for the purpose could not be found, was that in which 
the episcopal palace was situated. This, M. de Che- 
verus, on learning the circumstance, immediately ten- 
dered to the authorities, declaring that he would 
deem himself happy and honoured at seeing it con- 
verted into a hospital for his sick brethren, and ex- 
pressing his readiness to act himself as keeper of the 
infirmary in case of need. The oifer was accepted 
with gratitude by the authorities, who went in a 
body to thank the prelate who showed himself so 
truly the pastor and father of his people. Beds were 
accordingly transported to the palace, with every 
thing necessary for the comfort of the sick, and over 
the door were inscribed the words " House of Suc- 
cour" — a glorious inscription, the worthiest to deco- 
rate an episcopal mansion, and one which at all 
times and all places, before and after the cholera, at 
Boston and Montauban, as well as at Bordeaux, 
might have designated the residence of M. de Che- 

from him with charity of the purest kind, he could not have allowed 
what he deemed their errors to spread, where he had power to arrest 
them, without the plainest violation of duty. Indeed, tolerance can 
only exist in conjunction with a firm conviction of, and adherence to 
the truth of what is believed, for how can he be said to be tolerant 
who regards all religions as equally good ? There is certainly no 
virtue in such a man's tolerance, or indifference, to give it its pro- 
per appellation. — TV. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 193 

verus. Thanks to the goodness of Providence, who, 
as it were, only showed the scourge to the city, it 
was not found requisite to have recourse to these 
houses of succour, but a small number of the inhabi- 
tants having been attacked, for whom the general 
hospital was quite sufficient. Those the Archbishop 
visited almost every day, carrying them words of 
kindness and consolation, and alleviating their suffer- 
ings as much as was in his power. Several having 
died, an absurd rumour of poison began to circulate 
among the people, and produced so much excitement 
that the magistrates became alarmed. In their un- 
easiness they went to the Archbishop and begged 
him to use his influence to do away with the delu- 
sion. "Indigence," they said, "is accustomed to 
hear your voice; we have need of its assistance." 
He complied with their request the more eagerly, 
from the circumstance of the Sisters of Charity being 
involved in the calumnious report. To injure these 
angels of goodness was to afflict him in the tenderest 
point. He immediately took up his pen, and justified 
them in a pastoral letter full of energy and force. 
" The daughters of St. Vincent, of Paul, poison you !" 
he said, "rather would they suck poison from your 
wounds, were it necessary to save you." He also 
preached a discourse in the church of St. Eulalia. 
in which he exhibited the absurdity of the rumour, 
and from that day nothing more was heard of it. 

This was not the only occasion on which the civil 
authority called M. de Cheverus to its aid, and ex- 
perienced the beneficial effects of his influence. The 
cholera having carried off many of the inmates of the 
poor-house, the survivors determined to obtain their 

17 



194 LIFEOP 

release. The magistrates begged the Archbishop to 
exert his mild and powerful authority as the best 
means of re-establishing order. He repaired in con- 
sequence to the establishment, spoke to the paupers, 
appeased, their murmurs, dissipated their apprehen- 
sions, and succeeded in restoring perfect tranquillity 
and peace. "Had I not been able to quiet them," 
he said on his return, " I would have brought them 
with me to my palace, kept them there, and tended 
them, had they been assailed by the malady." 

Another revolt, more difficult to quell, threatened to 
break out about the same time among the prisoners 
confined in the fort of Ha, who having taken it into 
their heads that the revolution of July was to loosen 
their fetters and restore them to freedom, had be- 
come impatient at not obtaining their expected de- 
liverance, and resolved to release themselves by force. 
The sedition was on the point of proceeding to the 
last excesses, when the Archbishop, at the request of 
the magistrates, hastened to the prison, spoke to the 
revolters in his usual mild and pursuasive manner, 
represented to them the injury they would do to 
themselves by the new crime they were about to 
commit, and preached peace, resignation, and order 
in the name of God. The words of the good pastor 
were heard, the prisoners returned to submission, and 
religion had the glory of overcoming those hardened 
beings, who would only perhaps have grown more 
desperate in the presence of force. 

A short time after this event, M. de Cheverus sus- 
tained an afflicting loss. The bishopric of Montau- 
ban being vacant, his friend and grand vicar, the 
Abbe de Trelissac, who had left every thing to fol- 
low him, who was the depositary of all his thoughts 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 195 

and cares, and whom he loved as himself, was ap- 
pointed to the See. At first the Abbe refused the 
honour in the most peremptory way, and M. de Che- 
verus flattered himself with the hope of retaining 
him; but he was at length obliged to yield, and the 
separation became unavoidable. Great was the sor- 
row of both, but the Archbishop would not allow all 
that he felt to appear. He dissembled his grief in 
order to be able to console his excellent friend, who 
bitterly deplored his elevation, not so much because 
it withdrew him from a tranquil and agreeable life to 
impose upon him, old and infirm as he was, all the 
cares of a prelate, as because it broke the bonds 
which united him with one so beloved as M. de 
Cheverus. It was a consolation, however, to the 
latter, that the sacrifice was to be made for the sake 
of the people of Montauban, for whom he always 
preserved the tenderest regard. Both on their ac- 
count and that of his friend, he determined to conse- 
crate the new bishop himself, and give all possible 
pomp and majesty to the ceremonial. To furnish 
room for the faithful, he caused galleries to be erect- 
ed all around the cathedral;* and in order that they 
might see every thing that was done, a platform was 
raised in the middle of the nave, surmounted by two 
altars, for the consecration of the bishop, and suffi- 
ciently large to allow the ceremonies to be performed 
in their fullest magnificence. He also invited all his 
suffragan prelates to assist at the festival.; and in ad- 
dition to these, the bishops-elect of Tarbes and St. 
Flour, who were desirous of receiving consecration 
from his hands, lent the eclat of their presence. Bor- 

* The churches of Europe have no pews nor galleries like ours. — TV. 



196 LIFE OF 

deaux had never seen a more imposing spectacle — 
the consecration of three bishops, the union of seven 
prelates, and a numerous assemblage of clergy from 
every quarter of that and the neighbouring dioceses. 
The spectacle offered to the eyes of M. de Cheverus 
by the appearance of the cathedral, with the im- 
mense multitude within its precincts, could not fail 
to awaken the liveliest emotions; and these he 
poured out in a most eloquent and impressive dis- 
course. After proclaiming that day the most glori- 
ous of his episcopal career, he dwelt upon the fate of 
his virtuous friend, " a victim that was immolating 
to the interests of religion both his affections and his 
antipathies, who, the more he was decorated with 
rich insignia, was only the more adorned for sacri- 
fice." At the conclusion of the discourse the cere- 
mony was performed in a manner equally edifying 
and splendid, amid the wrapt attention of the congre- 
gation. That day M. de Cheverus entertained at his 
table, not only the seven prelates, but also all the 
principal authorities, and a large number of per- 
sons of distinction, whom, according to his wont, he 
thus induced to fraternize, notwithstanding the well- 
known difference of their opinions. So much de- 
lighted were the bishops with their host, that they 
remained for several days. One of them, especially, 
M. de Lostanges, Bishop of Perigueux, could not 
restrain his happiness and joy. Ever and anon he 
would throw himself upon the neck of M. de Che- 
verus, exclaiming with tears in his eyes: " Oh, my 
good father, how delighted I am to be near you! 
This is the happiest period of my life! I now feel in 
all its force what the Holy Spirit says: nothing is so 
good, nothing so sweet as the union of brethren — 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 197 

Ecce quam bonum et quam jucundum habitare 
fratres in unum!" This was the first time the 
worthy bishop had ever met M. de Cheverus, whose 
kindness, simplicity, delicate attentions, amiable gaie- 
ty, and exquisite tact at putting his guests at perfect 
ease, completely won his heart. The pleasure he 
experienced was a source of genuine satisfaction to 
his host, but at the same time furnished him with a 
reflection well worthy of his excellent heart: " If this 
dear bishop," said he, after the departure of M. de 
Lostanges, " felt so vividly the delight of finding a 
heart that loves him, he could not have been much 
accustomed to that happiness. Would that I had 
been able to impart it to him sooner!" 

After the return of the bishops to their respective 
dioceses, M. de Cheverus set out himself for Montau- 
ban, to visit his former flock, and instal M. de Tre- 
lissac. Seven years had elapsed since he left them, 
but he found that this long interval, so far from hav- 
ing cooled their affection, had only rendered it the more 
ardent. His whole journey from the first hamlet of 
the diocese, was a positive triumph. The whole road 
resounded with cries of " Long live M. de Cheverus." 
In all the towns and villages through which he pass- 
ed, he was received with every demonstration of the 
most enthusiastic delight ; in all he was obliged to 
comply with the eagerness of the inhabitants once 
again to hear his words of counsel and love. Mon- 
tauban itself he entered at night, in order to avoid 
all display ; but in spite of the darkness and the rain 
which was falling at the time, the people were watch- 
ing in the streets and at the gates of the episcopal re- 
sidence, and as soon as he appeared, there was a 
universal burst of joy. On descending from his car- 

17* 



198 LIFE OF 

riage, he was surrounded by an immense multitude, 
who thronged about him to kiss his hands, and even 
the hem of his garments, exclaiming: "Long live 
our good father! long live M. de Cheverus! he is as 
good as ever! he loves us still! he is no prouder than 
he was when among us!" The next day the crowd 
completely lined the path from the episcopal mansion 
to the cathedral, so that he could not get to the latter 
without being carried there, as it were, on the shoul- 
ders of the people. M. de Cheverus was deeply 
affected by these testimonials of love. " They do me 
injury," he said, "by loving me so! my feelings are 
too strong for my heart." For his first sermon he 
selected as his text the passage from St. John: Man- 
datum novum de vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut 
dilexi vos — " A new commandment I give unto you, 
that ye love one another; as I have loved you that 
ye also love one another;" and then went on to say: 
"Were I not afraid of being guilty of blasphemy, I 
would change the words of my text, and say to you, 
love one another as you have the goodness to love 
me." 

As may be supposed, M. de Trelissac, presented 
as he was to his flock by hands so dear, was joyfully 
welcomed. The sentiments of affection and respect 
which his own merits had so justly awakened, were 
enhanced by his title of friend of M. de Cheverus, by 
whom he had been consecrated and installed; and 
the two prelates were blended, so to speak, in one 
and the same feeling of love. 

During his leisure moments at his residence, the 
Archbishop was visited by all the principal persons 
of the city, who vied with one another in manifest- 
ing their esteem. " I have a favour to ask," said 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERT7S. 199 

one, " permit me to embrace you that I may boast of 
it for the rest of my life." "I have written/' said 
another, "to a cabinet minister and told him that if 
the king in person should come to Montauban, he 
could not be received with greater respect and dis- 
tinction than your grace has been." " You are truly 
king in this city," said a third; "all hearts, all wills 
are at your disposal ; one word from your mouth is 
more potent with the people than a whole army of 
bayonets." 

The stay of M. de Cheverus was but for a few 
days. On his return to Bordeaux he encountered 
an affliction equally great and unexpected. His 
other Grand Vicar, M. Carle, a venerable and most 
exemplary old man, whom, together with M. de Tre- 
lissac, he had brought with him from Montauban, 
fell dead in the church as he was leaving the altar 
after the celebration of the ceremonies of Easter Sun- 
day, [1834.] The intelligence of this melancholy 
event, which was suddenly and incautiously commu- 
nicated to the Archbishop, almost prostrated him at 
the moment, and a few days afterwards, either from 
natural predisposition or the agitation of mind into 
which he had been thrown, he himself had a stroke 
of apoplexy when alone, which rendered him sense- 
less for several instants. He recovered, however, 
without assistance, and endeavoured to conceal the 
circumstance in order not to alarm his friends ; but 
the injuries hrs face had received from the fall, be- 
trayed what had happened, and consternation was at 
once every where spread. As for himself, he was 
neither frightened nor saddened by the event. He 
considered it an annunciation of his approaching 
death, a warning from heaven to be prepared; and 



200 LIFE OP 

from that moment, more if possible than before, did 
he look upon all the things of this world as a fleeting 
dream, a transitory vapour, speaking often of his old 
age and deeming himself upon the brink of the tomb. 
This idea made him anxious to choose as successor 
to M. Carle in the Grand Vicarship, a devoted, dis- 
creet, and pious friend, who might accompany him 
in all his pastoral visits, as well as be always with 
him at home, to lend him assistance in case of acci- 
dent, execute his last wishes, and receive his last 
sigh. Such a friend was his nephew, but him he 
hesitated to appoint from an unwillingness to appear 
disposed to listen to the voice of nature in an affair 
of that kind. The expression, however, of the ge- 
neral wish, as manifested in the solicitations of many 
members of the clergy, removed his scruples, and he 
tendered the vacant place to the Abbe George. The 
latter was equally surprised and afflicted at the offer, 
and for the first time presumed to refuse compliance 
with his uncle's wishes. Far from being displeased, 
the Archbishop rejoiced at finding such sentiments in 
his relative, and told him that he would not impose 
any obligation upon him, but would only expect him 
to consult those in whom he had confidence and fol- 
low the advice they should give. M. George did 
consult, and receiving an unanimous opinion, he 
finally accepted the post. From that moment, he 
was glued, as it were, to his uncle's side, being kept 
in constant fear of a repetition of the blow which 
had nearly been attended by such disastrous conse- 
quences. His fears were but too well founded. Six 
weeks afterwards M. de Cheverus experienced an- 
other attack, but not so severe as to prevent him from 
resuming his avocations the next day, although it 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 201 

greatly increased the alarm of his friends, who trem- 
bled for his life from hour to hour. He himself, how- 
ever, continued full of courage, energy, and zeal, ful- 
filling all his duties with his usual assiduity, and 
seizing every occasion of doing good to those within 
his sphere. 

One day a rich Creole having besought him to bap- 
tise his child, at length prevailed upon him to grant 
the request, in spite of his unwillingness to do for 
one what he could not do for all. It happened that 
whilst he was administering the sacrament, he per- 
ceived in the church a poor woman, accompanied by 
her relatives, who was holding an infant in her arms 
and waiting humbly, at a distance, until she could be 
permitted to approach the font. Thinking of the 
painful feelings which might be excited in the bo- 
soms of those poor individuals by the spectacle of 
the honours bestowed upon the rich man's child, 
whilst the object of their solicitude was entirely ne- 
glected, he turned towards them and directing them 
to draw near, told them he wished to baptise the un- 
adorned baby as well as the one that was loaded 
with ornaments. On the conclusion of the ceremony 
he took occasion from the incident to give some use- 
ful lessons to both the rich and the poor who were 
present. " These two children," he said, "are equal- 
ly great in the sight of God, equally honourable, 
equally dear to his heart; both are destined to the 
same glory in eternity, though they are to reach it 
by different paths — the rich one by the charity which 
will succour and console his wretched brethren, the 
poor one by an humble and laborious life: Heaven 
will be open to him who suffers, because he will have 
been patient; to him who gives alms, because he will 



202 LIFE OF 

have been compassionate. The virtue of the one will 
consist in being generous, that of the other in being 
grateful; and," he added, "both must begin from 
this very day to fulfil their destiny: the poor child 
cannot, indeed, yet ask, and his heart is yet incapa- 
ble of gratitude, but I will be his interpreter, I will 
undertake to be grateful for all the good you may do 
him; the rich child cannot yet give, and his heart 
cannot yet be touched by generosity, but you," he 
continued, turning to the numerous and brilliant as- 
semblage by whom the infant was surrounded, " you 
are his representatives, you should be charitable and 
generous for him: the alms you may now bestoAV 
will be the greatest proof of tenderness you can give 
him;. they will sanctify his entrance into life, and 
cause the whole course of it to be blessed by that 
God who does not call himself in vain the Father of 
the poor." He then made a collection for the poor 
child, to which every one of the wealthy group 
pressed eagerly forward to contribute. They were 
all deeply affected by the words of the. Archbishop, 
and the collection in consequence was overflowing. 
The poor family left the church, with tears of happi- 
ness and gratitude in their eyes, pouring out fervent 
blessings upon the good Archbishop and his rich and 
munificent friends. 

One of the most admirable of the charitable esta- 
blishments on which M. de Cheverus delighted to 
bestow his care, was that for the benefit of the little 
Savoyards. For a long time the benevolent had 
been pained by the miserable condition of these poor 
children, who, coming from the mountains of Au- 
verge or Savoy, wandered through the French cities, 
ill fed and ill clothed, under the guidance of inhu- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 203 

man masters, and exposed, without any religious in- 
struction whatever, to all the dangers that beset des- 
titute childhood, yet always interesting from their 
simplicity and cheerfulness. At Paris an institution 
had been founded by the Abbes de Fenelon and Le- 
gris Duval, (names to be ever cherished,) in which 
the little creatures were furnished with all the suc- 
cour that both charity and faith can provide; but no- 
thing of the kind existed at Bordeaux before the last 
years of the life of M. d ? Aviau, when a similar insti- 
tution was commenced under the auspices of that 
holy man. It was left, however, to M. de Cheverus 
to complete it, and give it all its usefulness. A house 
was erected for the reception of the children, and a 
chapel built in which they might attend to their reli- 
gious duties. The Archbishop used constantly to 
visit and instruct them, telling them of all they owed 
to that religion which had shown herself so tender a 
mother to them, and always reminding them that, 
poor as they were, they might become in heaven 
greater, and richer, and happier, than all the great 
ones of the world. " Why," said he to them on one 
occasion, "has St. Francis de Sales been given to 
you as your patron ? It is because being a Savoyard 
himself, he feels a great affection for you ; in that 
way I am a Savoyard also, for I love you very much. 
Yes, I am a Savoyard; and," he added, seeing the 
children look surprised as if uncertain whether he 
was in earnest, " these gentlemen are also Savoyards, 
for they love you as I do; and these ladies likewise, 
who give you bread and clothes, are Savoyards in 
the same way." A smile was on every one's lips, 
and a tear in every one's eye, as he uttered these 
words. 



204 LIFE OF 

If the Archbishop was thus watchful over children 
who were strangers to his diocese, his care for the poor 
children of Bordeaux may be easily imagined. Up to 

1834, the greater part were left without guidance 
and instruction; but in that year asylums were open- 
ed for them in different parishes of the city, where 
from the age of eighteen months to seven years, they 
are every morning received, taught, and taken care 
of during the day with maternal tenderness; and thus 
while their parents are enabled to attend to their busi- 
ness, free from all solicitude on the score of their chil- 
dren, the latter are learning the love of virtue and. the 
science of religion, almost from their cradle. It was 
the happiness of M. de Cheverus to find himself in 
the midst of these children, and one of the most de- 
lightful days he ever experienced was the 6th of May, 

1835, when deputations from them went to him to 
place in his hands the symbolical keys of each asy- 
lum, as if to acknowledge him as the common father 
of the little families. Each asylum had its delega- 
tion, each parish its banner, with the names of Mary 
and St. Philomena on one side, and that of the patron 
saint of the parish inscribed around a cross upon the 
other. They repaired in procession to the chapel of 
the episcopal mansion, where they met the associa- 
tion of " the children of the rich for the protection of 
the children of the poor" — an association divided 
into two branches, one of which, composed of a thou- 
sand children, furnished, by a contribution of thirty 
francs each, the necessary sum for the expenses inci- 
dent to the establishmnt of the asylums, whilst the 
other, whose number is unlimited, is charged with 
the duty of collecting among relatives and friends 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 205 

whatever can be obtained.* After a discourse had 
been pronounced by the Abbe Dupuch, the director 
of the association, a certain number of its members, 
each one holding by the hand a child belonging to 
an asylum, advanced in order towards the Arch- 
bishop, the poor children presenting him with the 
keys of the asylum, the rich with an enamelled heart 
containing the names of the thousand associates. It 
was an affecting spectacle to behold the flower and 
hope of the city thus habituated from an early age to 
the exercise of charity, giving their hands to misfor- 
tune, and acting as the protectors and support of 
other children of their own age. The benediction of 
the Holy Sacrament was then sung, and afterwards 
M. de Cheverus took them all into his garden, where 
he pleased himself with looking at their gambols. 
From that day, the asylums increased with great 
rapidity. Eighteen were soon established in differ- 
ent parts of the city, and fifteen hundred children 
were received in them, and reared under the foster- 
ing care of religion. 

In proportion as these establishments were multi- 
plied, it became necessary to form religious institu- 
tions capable of directing them. To meet that want, 
M. de Cheverus invited to his diocese the sisters of 
the Presentation, an order founded thirty years be- 
fore, at Bourg-Saint Andeol, by the Abbe Vernet, 

* What an admirable association ! how well fitted to train up chil. . 
dren in the practice and love of that virtue which covereth a multi- 
tude of sins ! how worthy of being every where imitated, especially 
in a country where the rich and the poor, by the nature of its politi- 
cal institutions, are brought into closer contact than in any other, and 
where it is so important that the kindest feelings should exist between 
the two classes ! — TV. 

18 



206 LIFE OF 

Superior of the Seminary of Viviers, for the purpose 
not only of teaching youth, but of forming proper in- 
structors. These holy women did not restrict them- 
selves to the mere accomplishment of the object for 
which their order was created, but after creating a 
normal school for the formation of teachers for the 
Christian schools in the different parishes of the dio- 
cese as well as for the asylums, they imposed upon 
themselves the duty of regularly visiting the latter, 
of watching every thing that passed there, of super- 
intending the persons employed in them, and assem- 
bling them from time to time to give them advice 
and consult with them about the means of support- 
ing and improving the establishments — an important 
service from which resulted the uniformity of conduct 
and administration that characterize the asylums. At 
the age of seven, when the rudiments had been ac- 
quired, the boys were removed to the schools of the 
Brethren of the venerable Abbe de la Salle, and the 
girls to those of the Sisters of Charity, or to other 
academies of the kind. Two parishes alone were 
destitute of these elementary schools; these the Sis- 
ters of the Presentation took under thir own es- 
pecial charge, as well as numbers of deserted chil- 
dren left without father and mother, who could not 
be accommodated in the asylums. To provide for 
such of these poor orphans as they could not attend 
to, two new establishments were created, one for 
males and the other for females — the first supported 
by the association of rich children mentioned above, 
the second by another association of children bearing 
the name of " Young stewards of Providence." 

Every thing was thus done for childhood until it 
reached the season of life when an occupation is to 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 207 

be chosen. Either from the violence of the passions, 
or the bad examples encountered in work-shops, that 
period had been the fatal moment in which all the 
fruits of early education were blasted; but a remedy 
for this as well as for other evils, was provided. The 
same Sisters established a work-shop in which young 
persons are taught an employment suitable to their 
sex and condition. There they keep them under their 
eye during the week; and on Sundays and festi- 
vals give them innocent recreation intermingled with 
prayers and religious instruction — thus preserving 
them from the frequentation of amusements inimical 
to virtue. About the same time, forty masters of 
work-shops formed the project of an association for 
causing religion to be observed in their establish- 
ments, and excluding all irreligious workmen from 
their employ, with which the Archbishop was so 
much delighted, that he presided at its first meeting, 
and installed its principal officers. These individuals, 
like the Sisters of the Presentation, undertook to look 
after their apprentices during the week, and on Sun- 
days to assemble them in a large lot that had been 
bestowed upon them, in which are all kinds of games 
adapted to youth; so that it may be truly affirmed, 
that by this combination of good works, religion 
leads the poor by the hand from the cradle to the 
grave, keeps them under her aegis, and forms them 
for time and for eternity. 

It is easy to imagine how dear all these good 
works, which the Archbishop either encouraged or 
sustained, must have rendered him to the people of 
his diocese. One day while walking in the street, a 
hair-brained youth, a stranger doubtless in Bordeaux, 
was heard to utter from a store the cry by which 



208 LIFE OF 

the profligate sometimes ventured to insult the ec- 
clesiastical habit. Universal indignation was in- 
stantaneously aroused, and the young man was 
obliged to hide himself from public vengeance. In 
the evening the master of the store went to M. de 
Cheverus to apologise, and inform him that the cul- 
prit was in prison. The Archbishop, who had scarce- 
ly noticed the outrage, requested his release, but the 
other begged him not to insist upon it, saying that if 
full punishment were not inflicted, his store would 
be deserted and his business destroyed. 

It is worthy of remark that the Jews were not less 
indignant on the occasion than the Catholics them- 
selves. The offence was committed in the quarter 
which they inhabit, and they were the first to resent 
it. The respect, in fact, which they felt for M. de 
Cheverus was of the profoundest kind. They all 
saluted him with the utmost reverence, whenever he 
appeared in their quarter, and if seated, would rise 
as he passed. Immediately after his arrival at Bor- 
deaux, their great Rabbi had called upon him and 
complimented him in the most pompous terms, com- 
paring himself to the Queen of Sheba come to admire 
the wisdom of Solomon, and had never ceased to 
preserve the most friendly relations with him. " I 
come/ 5 said he one day, when plunged in the deepest 
grief by the death of a beloved daughter, "I come to 
seek consolation from the representative of that Jesus 
Christ who wept upon the tomb of Lazarus:" — 
strange language in the mouth of a Rabbi, but well 
calculated to show the veneration in which M. de 
Cheverus was held by that unbelieving people. 

The government were at this time seriously think- 
ing of raising him to the Cardinalate. M. Charles 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 209 

Dupin on the 8th of June, 1835, had sounded the 
chamber upon the subject — "Let the government," 
he said, "name the illustrious Cheverus a Cardinal; 
such a choice would do honour both to France and 
to Christendom"— and had found a unanimous sen- 
timent of approval. On learning that such a design 
was in existence, the Archbishop became alarmed, 
and did every thing to arrest his elevation. " You 
have often protested to me," he wrote to a high and 
powerful personage at Paris, " that you are one of 
my best friends; give me proof of it now by using 
all your influence to prevent the execution of a pro- 
ject which greatly afflicts me; I am already raised 
too high; allow me, I pray, to die such as I am." 
In answer also to the Marquis de Latour Maubourg, 
French ambassador at Rome, who had occasion seve- 
ral times to write to him on the subject, he expatiated 
upon all the reasons which seemed calculated to 
hinder his promotion. "After serving twenty-five 
years as a prelate, and forty -five as a priest, retire- 
ment would become me much better than new dig- 
nities; my old shoulders are becoming weak, and the 
head which is upon them is growing heavy. More- 
over I have no personal means for sustaining the 
expenses incident to the Cardinalate, and this is one 
of the numerous reasons why a prelate should be 
selected who, to more merit than I possess, joins 
pecuniary resources. Try then to keep this burden 
from me." 

His modesty, however, only seemed a new title to 
the honour. The king wrote to the Pope, and count- 
ing " upon the sentiments of affection which his Holi- 
ness had manifested towards him, and the lively 
interest he had always shown for the welfare and 

18* 



210 LIFE OF 

honour of the church of France/' he grounded his 
request in favour of M. de Cheverus upon "the vir- 
tues which, for a long time, had marked him out for 
the veneration of the faithful ; the high qualities of 
which he had given such striking evidence in the 
churches of France, after having edified a portion of 
the new world; the wisdom and ability with which 
he had fulfilled his ministerial duties; and his ardent 
and enlightened zeal for religion." The Sovereign 
Pontiff delayed for a time to answer this letter, wish- 
ing to induce the 'government to assign to the new 
Cardinal a revenue in keeping with his dignity; but 
he had decided upon the promotion from the first 
moment of its suggestion, for a short time after- 
wards, having seen the Vicar General of Bordeaux, 
he announced to him that the Archbishop was to be 
proclaimed a Cardinal in the next consistory. " And," 
he added, with that grace which characterises him, 
"if I raise him to that dignity, it is not only to com- 
ply with the request of the government; indepen- 
dently of that circumstance, I have a peculiar plea- 
sure in making the promotion, as it is due to the 
merit and virtties of the Archbishop, and the zeal he 
has displayed in the dioceses of Boston, Montauban, 
and Bordeaux." At length, on the 21st of Decem- 
ber, 1835, the revenue asked having been promised, 
the Pope replied to the king in his own hand, that 
being convinced like him that the elevation of so 
worthy a person as the Archbishop of Bordeaux to 
the Roman purple, would redound to the honour of 
the sacred college, and add to the splendour of the 
clergy of France, he willingly acceded to his wish, 
and would carry it into effect in the next consistory. 
Scarcely had this reply reached Paris, when it was 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 211 

spread abroad in all directions, and the approaching 
elevation of M. de Cheverus ceased to be a secret. 
The king expressed his thanks to the Pontiff in the 
following terms: "I have received, with lively gra- 
titude, the letter which your Holiness has addressed 
to me, to inform me of the paternal kindness with 
which you have complied with my request for the 
sacred purple in favour of the Archbishop of Bor- 
deaux. Your Holiness could do nothing more agree- 
able to me personally, or better fitted to excite uni- 
versal approbation in France, and sincere and deep- 
felt gratitude among all classes of society. The 
Archbishop of Bordeaux is a prelate whose enlight- 
ened piety, modesty, and lofty virtues are a source of 
edification to the church of France, and the sacred 
college could not be opened to a more worthy asso- 
ciate." All France did indeed applaud the event; 
and the most distinguished prelates hastened to ex- 
press to M. de Cheverus the delight it afforded them. 
The letter written on the occasion by the Archbishop 
of Paris, is too remarkable to be omitted. " The 
news of your near promotion," he said, " is now so 
public that there is no longer any indiscretion in 
speaking of it; and I should be grieved were I to be 
the last to offer you my felicitations. The Catholics 
of both worlds will applaud the testimonial of esteem 
and good- will which the Holy See bestows upon you; 
all voices will be blended in one harmonious chorus 
with that of our Holy Father; the church of Paris 
unites with those of Montauban and Bordeaux in 
the utterance of its joy at an event which crowns 
upon earth so much desert. Would that I could 
make you read in my heart all the interest, affection, 
and reverence which it feels for your person." 



212 LIFE OF 

Of all the marks of attachment and respect which 
he received from every quarter, this letter imparted 
the greatest gratification to M. de Cheverus. " It 
does me more honour," he said, "than the Cardi- 
nalate." In reply he wrote: "I cannot doubt that 
this dignity, which I merit so little, is designed for 
me ; but it is upon your Grace that my heart and my 
judgment tell me it should be conferred as a homage 
rendered to an apostle and a martyr — upon him 
who may truly say to his brethren, without violating 
truth: Ministri Christi sunt? Plus ego — in plagis 
supra modum, in mortibus frequenter — upon him 
whom we have admired as a new Belzuntius in the 
midst of the infected, and in whom we cherish a new 
Vincent of Paul, the father of the orphan. Judge if 
I am not touched and honoured by the kindness and 
friendship which such a prelate deigns to manifest 
for me." 

On the first of February, 1836, M. de Cheverus 
was proclaimed a Cardinal — the distinction being 
rendered the more remarkable by the circumstance 
of its being only shared with the nephew of the pre- 
ceding Pope, Leo XII., the Cardinal della Genga. As 
soon as the intelligence reached Bordeaux, univer- 
sal joy was diffused through the place ; congratula- 
tions poured in upon him from every side. He him- 
self was the only one who rejoiced not at his eleva- 
tion. His modesty could scarce tolerate the idea of 
being raised so high — it was as necessary to preach 
to him resignation to greatness, as to inculcate upon 
others resignation to obscurity and misfortune. It 
was with unaffected anxiety and grief that he re- 
paired to Paris to receive the titles and insignia of 
his dignity. On his arrival there the legate of his 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 213 

Holiness delivered to him the apostolical letters 
which admitted him into the Sacred College. They 
were of the most flattering kind: "The chief of our 
solicitudes," said the Sovereign Pontiff, " is to com- 
pose the Sacred College of Cardinals, the venerable 
Senate of the Apostolical See and Universal Church, 
in such a manner as to cause it to shine throughout 
the world by the eminent merit of its members, as 
brilliantly as is demanded by a dignity so sublime, 
and by the decrees of the Sacred Canons: it is this 
consideration which prompts us to receive you into 
this august assemblage; for your well-known piety, 
your learning, your prudence, your zeal for the Cath- 
olic religion, and all your other virtues, joined to a 
rare devotion to us and to the apostolic See, your 
experience in affairs, the fidelity and ability you 
have displayed in the administration of the diocese 
of Bordeaux, have placed you so high in our esteem 
that we cannot doubt the success of your exertions 
for the service and honour of the Church of God." 
And in the brief sent with the letters, the Pope fur- 
ther says: "Turning the eyes of our paternal affec- 
tion upon your person, which divine goodness has 
illustrated by so many eminent gifts of grace, and 
considering how highly you honour the Roman 
Church by the greatness of your merits, we deem it 
not only meet but incumbent upon us to grant you 
certain privileges." 

To these flattering expressions of esteem, the new 
Cardinal returned the most humble and modest re- 
plies. "We have received," he said, "the letters of 
your Holiness, and read them with shame and blushes 
on our brow from the consciousness of our unworthi- 
ness, yet with the lively gratitude of a son who sees 



214 LIFE OP 

himself honoured by a beloved father: I experience 
a species of stupor and dread at beholding myself, 
unworthy as I am, a member of the most eminent 
College of Cardinals of the Holy Church ; but placing 
my trust in God who is my strength, I pray him to 
grant me the grace to defend as I ought the rights of 
the Church and of the Holy See, and promote their 
welfare." 

There yet remained a ceremony for M. de Cheve- 
rus to undergo which tasked his modesty more than 
any thing else. This was the solemn reception of the 
hat from the hands of the king. On Wednesday the 
9th of March, he and his suite, with the Charge d' 
Affaires of the Holy See, the legate, and the intro- 
ducer of ambassadors, were taken to the Tuileries in 
carriages belonging to the Court, and after the king 
had been harangued in latin by the legate, according 
to custom, mass was celebrated in the chapel. At the 
conclusion of the holy sacrifice, the Cardinal having 
knelt down in the Sanctuary, the king, who was like- 
wise upon his knees, placed the hat upon his head. 
Every one then retiring, the Cardinal invested him- 
self with the red cassock and the other insignia of his 
new dignity, and repaired to the apartments of the 
king, where he pronounced a discourse of thanks to 
his majesty. 

After the ceremony the king granted him a private 
interview, and spoke to him with so much kindness 
that his Eminence thought the moment auspicious 
for soliciting a favour which his heart craved — the 
release of M. de Peyronnet, and of his companions in 
in misfortune. The king expressed the utmost good 
will, but for a while the matter rested there. On 
leaving the Tuileries, the Cardinal went to visit the 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 215 

Archbishop of Paris to thank him for the kindness of 
his felicitations. That prelate spared no effort to 
show the Cardinal the pleasure he experienced in 
his elevation; not only did he call upon him several 
times, but he took his chapter to congratulate him in 
the name of the Church of Paris. In the midst of all 
these honours, however, M. de Cheverus continued 
sad. His soul was too deeply impressed with the 
nothingness of human grandeur to find aught in it 
satisfactory. " What boots it/' he said, " to be en- 
veloped after death in a red, a black, or a purple 
shroud ? When one has seen thrones overturned, 
when one sees every day the very foundations of so- 
ciety shaken, how is it possible not to feel that there 
is nothing stable here below ? How can any value be 
placed upon human things ?" " How I could wish/ 5 
he exclaimed to the young Seminarians of St. Sul- 
pice, " how I could wish to exchange this red cap for 
yours l" He set out from Paris, as soon as possible, 
and returned to his diocese by the way of Mayenne. 
The joy of that city on beholding, for the first time, 
one of its sons a Cardinal, was indescribable, and 
every mode in which it could be exhibited was em- 
ployed. At Bordeaux his reception was marked by 
all the magnificence which enthusiastic affection and 
reverence could impart to it. In spite of a heavy 
fall of rain, an immense multitude went out to meet 
him — the troops in complete uniform, the authorities 
of the city, the whole body of the clergy collected 
from the different parts of the diocese, all vied with 
one another in displaying their love, and their pride 
in beholding the Roman purple upon the See of Bor- 
deaux. Delightful as must have been these proofs 
of attachment, the pleasure they afforded was cruelly 



216 LIFE OF 

counterbalanced by the sufferings he underwent on 
the following day when informed of a most deplora- 
ble accident which had occurred at the extreme end 
of his diocese. 

A few days before his arrival, ninety-six fishermen 
having gone out from the port de la Teste, in eight 
boats, each one containing twelve men, had been 
overtaken by a violent tempest, and all swallowed 
up in the waves, with the exception of two only of 
the boats, which escaped to tell the tale of woe. 
Fifty-six of the unfortunate beings were fathers of 
families, and twelve married without children. The 
Cardinal's heart was torn to pieces by the intelli- 
gence. He wept over the dismal fate of so many 
of his fellow creatures, the destitution of so many 
widows and orphans, and hastened to provide every 
remedy in his power for the disaster. He preached 
and made collections for the families of the defunct, 
and established an association for the protection of 
the fatherless children, composed in the first place of 
the rich orphans of Bordeaux, to whom the children 
of many wealthy parents were subsequently added. 
An asylum was thus opened for the children whom 
their mothers chose to place in it, whilst succour was 
furnished to those whom their mothers would not 
allow to be taken away. The wants of the sufferers 
were carried even to the foot of the throne. The 
royal family sent them five thousand francs, the mi- 
nister seven thousand; all, even to the pupils of the 
Royal College, were eager to lend them help. Be- 
sides a collection of five hundred francs, those gene- 
rous youths undertook, with the consent of their 
parents, to bring up and educate an orphan boy, and 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 217 

give him an employment. The evil was thus repair- 
ed as far as it could be. 

A short time afterwards, the Cardinal published a 
code of ecclesiastical laws, or diocesan statutes, for 
his clergy, which he had long and carefully been 
maturing with the assistance of his Grand Vicars. 
It was on Whit-Sunday of the year 1836, that he 
promulgated it, with the declaration that it was not 
dictated by a spirit of domination and authority, for 
<" God, who beheld the depths of his heart, knew that 
he would prefer being the last of his priests to being 
placed at their head, and that his greatest unhappi- 
ness was to be obliged to command;" and, further, 
that it was not from his own ideas that he had drawn 
the rules, but from the venerable councils of anti- 
quity, especially those of Bordeaux, the writings of 
the Fathers, and the Holy Scriptures. The whole 
compilation exhibits a happy blending of mildness 
and severity, and furnishes the wisest rules of con- 
duct. 

This was the last great act, as it were, of the ad- 
ministration of the Cardinal de Cheverus, but it may 
also be called the most important. By it he will 
always live in his diocese, will always continue to 
direct its clergy, and trace out the line of their duties. 

About this period he had the satisfaction of ren- 
dering service to two illustrious exiles. The first 
was the Archbishop of Sarragossa, a venerable and 
infirm old man, whom it was wished to send to a 
distance from the frontiers of Spain. The Cardinal 
made every effort to obtain permission to keep him 
in Bordeaux, and at his request received him into his 
seminary, where all the attention and respect were 
paid him which his rank, his character, and his vir- 

19 



218 LIFE OF 

tues demanded. The other was the Bishop of Leon, 
an active and energetic prelate, with an open, noble 
disposition, and an elevated soul. Being arrested by 
the police as a former minister of Don Carlos, his 
release was immediately solicited by M. de Cheve- 
rus, and promised on condition that he would give 
his word not to return to Don Carlos. " At that 
price," he replied, "I do not wish my liberty; if I 
gave my word I should keep it; but far from think- 
ing of entering into such a compact, I declare that it 
is my firm resolve, as it is, in my judgment, my duty, 
to re-enter Spain as soon as I possibly can." The 
intrepidity and candour of this answer could not fail 
to please M. de Cheverus, and short as was the time 
the prelates passed together, a sincere friendship was 
formed between them. The Bishop was removed to 
Strasbourg, whence he wrote a letter full of gratitude 
and affection to the Cardinal; but the latter had no 
opportunity of replying, as a few days after receiving 
the epistle, the journals officially announced the return 
of the courageous prelate to Spain. 

The clergy of the canton of St. Foy, situated at the 
extremity of his diocese, having requested the Cardi- 
nal to visit them and confirm a large number of per- 
sons who were desirous of the happiness of receiving 
the sacrament from his hands, he set out, in spite of 
the excessive heat of the season, and went through 
all the parishes of the canton, preaching every day, 
officiating in all the churches, and administering con- 
firmation to a multitude of the faithful. These cere- 
monies kept him day after day, for four or five hours, 
in places where the crowds which thronged them in- 
creased to an almost insufferable degree the warmth 
of the atmosphere, so that he was often obliged to 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS, 219 

Interrupt the proceedings for a few moments while 
he retreated into the sacristry to breathe fresh air. 
Returning to Bordeaux on Saturday, the 2d of July, 
he confirmed the next day, in the parish of St. Peter, 
a number of children, preached before and after the 
ceremony, and then went to the end of the city to 
officiate pontifically in the church of St. Martial, 
whose feast day it was. He was tormented the 
whole time by a thirst so burning that his tongue 
clove to the roof of his mouth. _ On his return home 
he was completely prostrated — alas! the prostration 
was the precursor of the death which was approach- 
ing, a death ever to be deplored, but ever glorious 
for the illustrious Cardinal, since he sank beneath the 
labours and fatigues of his ministry, dying, as it 
were, in the breach with arms in his hands. 



220 



BOOK V. 

CHARACTER AND DEATH OF THE CARDINAL. 

Between the circumstances detailed in the pre- 
ceding book, and the terrible blow which at once and 
for ever deprived Cardinal de Cheverus of all sense 
and knowledge, but a few days elapsed, and those 
entirely barren of incident, so that we may now say 
that we have arrived at the end of his moral and 
intellectual life. But before narrating his last sick- 
ness and death, a task remains to be performed. 
Hitherto we have only considered the actions which 
successively filled up the course of his existence; but 
he would be very imperfectly known, if we should 
stop there. Public acts often reveal only an appa- 
rent and ephemeral virtue, a momentary effort after 
which the individual falls back, and the hero before 
the world sinks into a very small man in the detail 
of his interior and domestic career. To appreciate a 
man thoroughly, to obtain a clear insight into his 
merits, it is necessary to be acquainted with the 
whole course of his life, private as well as public, to 
view his deportment in every circumstance, when 
removed from the eye of the world, as well as when 
under its inspection; in a word, to behold the por- 
trait of his entire soul; and it is in this way that we 
have now to consider M. de Cheverus. We have 
not been able to do it before, as the picture does not 
belong to any particular part of his life, but to the 



LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 221 

whole of it; and we deem it proper not to delay it 
any longer, because by exhibiting M. de Cheverus in 
all the beauty of his character, we shall better pre- 
pare the reader to understand the intense interest 
which his sickness created, the tears which flowed at 
his death, the regrets which followed him to the 
tomb. 

The most prominent trait in the life of M. de Che- 
verus was the uniform regularity of his existence, 
except when charity or some other duty obliged him 
to interrupt his habits. He considered a want of 
method in the employment of the day as a waste of 
time, a neglect of duty, an indication of a character 
destitute of energy, and incapable of controlling its 
moods and caprices — regarding, on the other hand, a 
Christian life as a life essentially of order which pre- 
sides over every moment, causes each thing to be 
done in its proper place and season, and is thus a 
source of peace, of tranquillity, of happiness to those 
who observe it, a spectacle of virtue and religion to 
those by whom it is witnessed, a guarantee for the 
accomplishment of every duty. He always rose very 
early, at four o'clock in summer and half past four 
in winter, in order to perform his devotions in silence 
without interruption. At six o'clock he said mass, 
and then studied the Holy Scriptures, reading every 
day two chapters of the Old and two of the New 
Testament, in Latin, French, Greek, and English; he 
often, also, studied the Hebrew text when he had 
leisure to do so; and it was to this constant practice 
that he owed the knowledge he possessed of the Sa- 
cred Writings — a knowledge which he sought not 
from the impulse of vain curiosity, but from that sen- 
timent of piety, of religious profit, of respect for the 

19* 



222 LIFE OP 

divine word, which touches, penetrates, and engraves 
upon the soul its blessed truths. He next busied 
himself with his correspondence, which he conducted 
entirely himself, leaving to his subordinates only- 
matters of a purely administrative description. Pre- 
cisely at mid-day the bell was rung for dinner, to 
which he immediately repaired, inviting those who 
were with him at the moment, to share his repast. 
He began by asking a blessing, and then did the 
honours of the table with unaffected urbanity and 
grace. It was always frugally but decently served, 
Tvith a suitable abundance, but never with any of 
those rare and costly dishes which are the refinements 
of luxury or gluttony; all was simple, and the cardi- 
nal was wont to give this reason for it to his numer- 
ous guests — "If I were only to assemble my friends 
at great banquets, I should be able to see them but 
■seldom, whilst by thus offering them every day a 
frugal table, I can see them often, which I delight to 
do." But something better than the most delicious 
viands gave an attraction to these repasts — the per- 
fect ease at which every one was placed, and the 
freedom all enjoyed of sharing in an agreeable in- 
tercourse, but especially the charm of his conversa- 
tion. Nowhere was he more delightful than at 
table. He there abandoned himself to all the inspi- 
rations of his intellect and inexhaustible memory, 
now relating his recollections of America or some 
entertaining incident, now indulging in the happiest 
repartees, and bons-mots, and often in reminiscences 
of the poets of various languages, from whom he 
would make the most pertinent quotations. The 
dinner lasted three quarters of an hour, after which 
the company repaired on fine days to his garden, or 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERTJS. 223 

if the weather were bad, to his saloon, where he 
would continue conversing till near two o'clock. 
This was his only recreation; but even those few in- 
stants were mostly given to business, being employed 
in listening to the priests or laymen who had some- 
thing to say to him, either to ask his advice or to ob- 
tain his directions. As soon as his guests were gone, 
he shut himself up in his room until eight o'clock, 
dividing that long interval between prayer, study, 
and business. He never went out except when the 
duties of his ministry, or the claims of charity or po- 
liteness constrained him; and when, after his first 
attack of apoplexy, in 1834, his physicians ordered 
him to take exercise every afternoon, he turned his 
promenade into a walk of benevolence by visiting 
some afflicted family or sick individual. At eight 
o'clock he supped; a few vegetables, generally with- 
out bread, making his meal; and at nine, he assem- 
bled all his servants, read them a subject of medita- 
tion for the following day, and said the evening 
prayers, in which they all joined. 

Such was the daily life of Cardinal de Cheverus. 
No particular time was set aside in it for the reception 
of those who wished to speak with him, because, re- 
garding charity as the first of all rules, he was accessi- 
ble to all from the moment of rising until he went to 
bed. Every Sunday and feast-day, when he was at 
Bordeaux, he assisted at the service of the Cathedral; 
and during Lent, he attended all the sermons of the 
preacher of the station, especially when the latter 
was not successful in his efforts, hoping to induce 
the parishoners to follow his example, and wishing 
to console the preacher as much as possible for the 
desertion of his audience. 



224 LIFE OF 

A life of such regularity had given habits of 
punctuality to Cardinal de Cheverus which were 
absolutely astonishing. In the pastoral retreats he 
was always first in attendance at every exercise; and 
when he was to officiate any where, he always re- 
paired to the place before the time, and was ready to 
begin at the very moment. Never was he known to 
keep any one waiting. He used to say that it cost no 
more to set out a quarter of an hour too soon, than a 
quarter of an hour too late. If he had a letter to an- 
swer, he did it at once, or as soon as his affairs would 
permit him; if anyone asked to see him, he immedi- 
ately left the study, the business, or the conversation 
in which he was engaged, sometimes even his meal, 
to comply with the request ; if invited to preach, he 
prepared his sermon as soon as possible, in order not 
to run the risk of treating the word of God with less 
respect than the wishes of man. In all his actions, 
he never regulated himself by what was most agree- 
able, but by what was most proper at the moment, 
and most conformable to the will of Providence. 

Thus were all his days filled, and his moments 
usefully employed. Although fitted to shine in the 
circles of society where people meet to get rid of 
time, he never went to them, nor formed them in his 
own house. He never indulged in any frivolous 
pastimes, not even in those promenades which seem 
so legitimate and innocent a recreation. If he went 
to his country-seat at about a league from Bordeaux, 
it was only to show it to a friend who was desirous 
of seeing it, or to please his steward who was anxi- 
ous to exhibit the improvements he had made. On 
being told one day by the Superior of one of his 
seminaries, how happy they would be if he would 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 225 

visit their country establishment, whenever he might 
please to come and walk about it, he replied:—" If I 
only go when the promenade attracts me, you will 
never see me: since I have become a priest, I have 
never talken a walk of a quarter of an hour for my 
pleasure, and at my age I will not now commence." 
From the same motive, following the example of St. 
Ambrose and St. Augustine, he made it a rule never 
to accept an invitation to any repast, except from his 
curates, and then only on the day in which he offici- 
ated in their church. " I should lose," he said, " the 
half of my time if I were to accept all the invitations 
which would be given to me, and I should make 
enemies and create jealousies if I were to accept 
some and refuse others." He infinitely preferred his 
own frugal meal, which occupied but a few short 
moments; moreover, by being always to be found at 
his own table, he gave his clergy and friends the cer- 
tainty of seeing him there. So rigid was he in this 
practice of removing every obstacle to the good em- 
ployment of him, that even in his pastoral rounds, 
after he had celebrated divine service, and made the 
visits which courtesy demanded, he would retire to 
his chamber, and occupy himself with his corres- 
pondence, with study, or with prayer, whilst the 
priests who accompanied him, or the clergy of the 
place, were taking the recreation which seemed re- 
quisite. Having gone one day, by mistake, to his 
minor seminary, an hour before the commencement 
of the exercise at which he was to preside, he pre- 
ferred returning to his residence on foot, a walk of 
about twenty minutes, to passing the interval in idle 
conversation. Sincerely did he pity those who, to 
spend their time pleasantly, have need of frivo- 



226 LIFE OF 

lous amusements, entertainments, games, or novels. 
" Have not the Holy Scriptures, history, literature, the 
natural sciences, enough of interest to occupy our short 
existence? When we have in our hands and under 
our eyes so many things fitted to delight the mind 
and the heart, to enrich our understandings and adorn 
our memories, how can we lose our time in games 
and frivolity? For myself, he added, I want no one 
to assist me in spending my hours deliciously ; prayer 
and study have always constituted the charm of my 
life." He never, in fact, was found indulging in in- 
dolence or any amusement whatever; he was always 
absorbed in serious concerns; and knew no other re- 
pose than a change of employment. Thus when 
wearied with business, he would seek for relaxation 
in the study of antiquity, or, in his own words, 
" when the living fatigue me, I go to the dead for re- 
creation." 

The fund of knowledge which the Cardinal must 
have treasured up during his long career with this 
severe employment of time, may be conceived, espe- 
cially when it is considered that his memory was truly 
prodigious. Whatever was ever confided to it, was al- 
ways retained. It was a sort of living library in which 
every thing was arranged in order, where he could 
always find at once the illustrations, facts and cita- 
tions he wished. So thorough was his acquaintance 
with the Latin language — so fluently and admirably 
did he speak it, that, as we are informed by a Boston 
journal, he said that he would rather make use of it 
than any other for the defence of his life before judges 
capable of understanding him. He was scarcely less 
familiar with Greek than with Latin; and as to Eng. 
lish, he may be said to have been more conversant 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 221 

with it than with French itself. He always thought 
in that language, even in his dreams, and when he 
preached, it was a labour for him to translate as it 
were his ideas, which always presented themselves 
in an English garb. He was less acquainted with 
Hebrew; but knew enough of it to refute those who 
endeavoured to draw objections from it against his 
religion. 

Knowledge of languages, however, was the least 
part of his attainments. In mathematics, in history 
both ancient and modern, especially the ecclesiastical 
branch of the latter, and in theological erudition, he 
was greatly distinguished. The acquisitions of the 
last kind, which he had made at the Sorbonne, he 
had constantly augmented during his whole sojourn 
in America, by the most profound and extensive 
study. In the Holy Scriptures, and in general lite- 
rature, he was particularly versed. It was impossi- 
ble for him to understand how it was that the sacred 
writings were so little read and known; and he would 
often say to those with whom he was intimate, " You 
read frivolous books, perhaps romances, but you 
never read the most admirable of all books, the most 
affecting of all narratives." Let it not be supposed, 
however, that he did not condemn as decidedly as 
any one, the error of those who offer the divine 
volume to all understandings as a rule of faith com- 
prehensible by all. What he wished was, that it 
should be read in a spirit of submission to the church 
which is its only legitimate interpreter, and with sen- 
timents of devotion, and confidence and prayer, espe- 
cially with the desire of being made better by the 
perusal. This was what he did himself. So con- 
stant was his study of the Bible, that he may be said 



228 LIFE OP 

to have known it almost entirely by heart. With 
the Old Testament he was no less familiar than with 
the Gospel. He had meditated so deeply upon its 
historical incidents, its moral sentences, and the ap- 
plication which may be made of both in the various 
circumstances of life, that whatever was the subject 
he was treating, he had always under his finger every 
passage that was in the least relevant to it. To his 
own reflections he had joined those of the ablest 
commentators, especially of St. John Chrysostom. 
Besides the advantage which he derived from the 
perusal of this illustrious doctor of the Church in 
keeping up his acquaintance with the Greek lan- 
guage, he was singularly fond of his lofty, noble, and 
eloquent manner of commenting upon the Scriptures, 
his enthusiasm for St. Paul, and the outpourings of 
his tender and impassioned soul. Next to ecclesias- 
tical science, literature had the greatest attraction for 
M. de Cheverus. We have already seen that his 
position in Boston rendered it his duty, as it were, to 
familiarize himself with that species of knowledge, 
and his inclinations led him in the same direction. 
In the classics he was extensively read. Horace was 
his especial favourite, and might often be found upon 
his table by the side of his Bible. He had by heart, 
and was wont to make the most felicitous applica- 
tions of the wit and wisdom of the inimitable bard. 
In French and English literature, also, his attain- 
ments were extraordinary. Of the standard works 
in both he was perfectly master, and he never omit- 
ted to read whatever appeared in France or England 
that was at all remarkable, not with the levity of 
mind which seeks only the gratification of frivolous 
curiosity, but with that justness of taste, that perspi- 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 229 

cuity of view, that depth of reflection, which turn 
every thing to account, which are not contented 
with splendor of imagery and pomp of style, but 
look chiefly for clearness of expression, and truth, 
precision, and soundness of thought. Thence it was 
that he was so severe in his judgments upon modern 
works, which he found for the most part defective 
both in manner and matter. " The scribomania of 
our age," he said, "only proved its ignorance." 
" Authors no w-a-days think they put forth what is 
new, whereas, if they were better informed, they 
would find that all they have written has been said 
before them, and said much better; their productions 
would then make them blush, like the writing of a 
child brought in contrast with that of his teacher." 
For himself, his principle was that a Bishop should 
appear in print as seldom as possible, as every thing 
so published is submitted to public censure, before 
which tribunal he did not deem it suitable for the 
episcopal dignity to be unnecessarily arraigned. This 
is the reason why his mandates were equally brief 
and rare— why he who spoke so often, wrote so 
little. 

Although thus adorned with all the richness and 
beauty of letters, the intellect of Cardinal de Cheve- 
rus was still more bountifully supplied by nature. 
He was gifted with a mind of wide and elevated 
views, which never allowed itself to be prejudiced 
against any one or any thing by a first unfavourable 
impression. He carefully examined the matter to 
be adjudged, under all its aspects, and if he discover- 
ed in it a substantial good, he gave it his approba- 
tion however much he might dislike its form. His 
acuteness and penetration were remarkable; and not 

20 



230 LIFE OF 

less so his tact in adapting his conduct and speech 
to every circumstance. Amiability, delicacy, and 
gracefulness were pervading characteristics of his 
intellect. No one was better able to animate, enli- 
ven and instruct society. More than once he was 
brought into contact with the wits of the day, who 
seemed eager to show themselves off in his presence, 
but it was always remarked, that without any effort, 
the Cardinal got the upperhand by the promptness 
and point of his reflections and repartees, as well as 
by the amenity of his manners and language. If 
harangued in a public discourse to which it was 
necessary to make an immediate response, he was 
ever ready and happy in his reply; if brought into 
intercourse with personages of the most distinguish- 
ed rank, he was sure almost at once to win their 
favour by his graceful and ingenuous address; if ob- 
liged to adopt a course under difficult circumstances, 
he was inaccessible to prepossessions and prejudices, 
he saw only the matter itself, and balanced the rea- 
sons for and against with perfect impartiality; too 
humble to have recourse to himself alone, he received 
advice willingly; and too wise to precipitate his de- 
cisions, he matured them always in the calm of 
reflection. 

Remarkable as was the Cardinal for the qualities 
of his mind, he was still more so for those of his 
heart. It was one filled with noble and exalted sen- 
timents, free from all the littlenesses of vanity, con- 
ceit and selfishness, eager to do good to all, and 
infinitely grateful for the least benefit it received. 
It was his principle that, whilst the benefactor should 
forget the service he has rendered and never allow 
its weight to be felt, the person benefitted should 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 231 

ever remember it, and seize every opportunity of 
showing how ineffaceably it is engraven upon his 
recollection. This was his invariable practice. After 
bestowing a favour, he appeared to be the individual 
obliged, and redoubled his attentions and kindness; 
when the recipient of a benefit, often even when 
shown a slight testimonial of interest and good-will, 
his gratitude and affection were secured for ever. 
Thence arose his eagerness to welcome and invite to 
his hospitalities all the English, Irish and Ame- 
ricans he had occasion to see. " These people," he 
said, " received me with so much kindness, treated 
me with so much indulgence, that I am happy to 
have an opportunity of manifesting my gratitude." 
The tenderness and sensibility of his heart never de- 
generated into that weakness which enervates the 
spirit; they were the tenderness and sensibility of 
the same charity which caused our Saviour to weep 
over the inanimate Lazarus and the faithless Jeru- 
salem. He had no sympathy with those obdurate 
hearts that make it a system and a religious duty, 
so to speak, to be cold in their attachments, and 
refrain from weeping for those whom they love when 
separated from them by death or any other cause: 
"Religion," he said, "is love; it does not destroy 
what is tender and affectionate; it only refines and 
sanctifies it." This sensibility went on increasing 
with his age ; towards the end of his life the least 
thing moved him to tears. The fervour of his friend- 
ship may thence be easily inferred. He literally 
verified the remark of Fenelon, that " there is no- 
thing so tender, so frank, so mild, so amiable, so 
loving, as a heart filled and animated by a friendship 
purified by religion." The more he was known, 



232 LIFE OF 

the more he was loved; once attached to him it was 
impossible to be alienated from him. A voyage, as 
we have already related, was made from the United 
States to Bordeaux for the sole purpose of enjoying 
his society for a few weeks; and when he removed 
to that city from Montauban, others removed with 
him in order not to be separated from his side. Thus 
he was fully justified in saying, towards the end of 
his life, that during the whole course of it he had 
never lost a friend except by death. 

One quality was especially captivating in the Car- 
dinal — the openness of his character. He practised 
no subterfuges, disguises, nor mental reservations. 
Such as he appeared, he was. One might be sure 
that whatever he said, he thought; that if he made 
a protestation of regard it was sincerely felt. His 
language was a crystal stream, in whose transparent 
depths his whole soul could be seen. He would not 
tolerate the practice of employing intrigue, or equi- 
vocation of any kind, for the attainment of an object. 
" To act in that way," he said, " is to deceive; and to 
deceive, even for a good purpose, is unworthy of a 
man and a Christian. " Nothing displeased him so 
much as a want of simplicity and directness. This 
spirit of candour presided over every act of his ad- 
ministration, as well as of his private life. Never 
did he borrow the appearance of a sentiment he did 
not feel. " I seem what I am," he said, " and I try 
to be what I ought to seem." When once congra- 
tulated on the circumstance of there being no view 
of his garden from any of the neighbouring houses, 
he replied, " It is of little consequence to me; I have 
not two modes of acting, one when men behold me, 
and the other when they do not; I endeavour to do 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERtTS. 233 

«' 

nothing in private that I would not do in public, and 
even to think of nothing which I might not utter 
aloud." 

It is not surprising, therefore, that he was so 
modest and humble. Christian humility is the can- 
dor of virtue. Man is only proud when he will not 
acknowledge to himself the truth of his nothingness 
and misery — of his nothingness, because all that he 
has is the gift of God, which may be taken from him 
in an instant — of his misery, because so much prone- 
ness to evil, against which it is indispensable to 
struggle incessantly in order to be virtuous, reveals 
to him the fact of his being a degraded being, who 
cannot indulge in pride without belieing himself. 
The Cardinal did not conceal these truths from his 
heart, which they filled with the humblest feelings. 
He placed himself in his own esteem above no one, 
not even the lowliest and poorest, because, as he 
said, " they are our brethren, our fellow creatures, 
and perhaps many of them will one day be higher 
than we shall be in the sight of God;" not even, in- 
deed, above the greatest sinners, " because," to quote 
his language farther, "who knows what we should 
have become without the grace of God ? Perhaps 
we should have done worse/' His humility was 
especially excited whenever he visited the lunatic 
asylum which was in his diocese: " Amongst these 
poor wretches," he said, "are men who had a great 
deal of talent and knowledge, which was all snatched 
from them in a moment; and the same thing may 
occur to us when we least apprehend it; how then 
can we glorify ourselves on account of our genius or 
learning?" 

With such sentiments it is easy to understand how 



20 



* 



234 LIFE OF 

far removed was the deportment of the Cardinal from 
every thing like pretension and display. Never was 
the slightest ostentation or self-love observable in 
him; never the least appearance of pride or haughti- 
ness; his humility, on the contrary, was so profound 
that he had always need of being cheered and en- 
couraged. When he spoke of himself, it was in 
terms of utter humiliation; he recommended his 
"poor person," "the poor Archbishop," to the 
prayers of his people in a way that proved the sin- 
cerity of his words. When at the head of his clergy 
in their assemblages, he seemed to be ashamed of 
raising his voiee in the midst of them, looking upon 
himself as the least among them. The celebrated 
speech of the Bishop of Hippon was often in his 
mouth: "I know that Jerome is more worthy than 
Augustin; I do not deceive my self £ my brethren, my 
beloved, support my weakness, I need your aid to 
prevent me from falling into despondency." Thus 
perfectly did he follow the counsels of the Holy 
Spirit. 

The Cardinal did still more. He endured offences 
and injuries as if it were no matter whether his* 
"poor person" was ill-treated or not. On several 
occasions he received insulting letters, but he never 
allowed himself to be angry, nor complain, and when 
he met the persons by whom they were written, 
he would speak to them in the kindest manner as 
though he had forgotten their conduct, or, if he refer- 
red to it at all, it was to give them salutary advice: 
"Permit me," he would say, "to counsel you as a 
friend for your own sake, in reference to the manner 
in which you have written to me. As to myself it 
is of no importance, for I take care not to be irritated 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 235 

by it; but should you write in that style to other per- 
sons in authority, who may not know you as I do, 
who may not have the same regard for you that I 
have, the most disagreeable consequences might 
result from the act : you might make yourself ene- 
mies who would do you harm." The narrative of 
his life has exhibited him under other circumstances, 
tranquil in the midst of censure, patient under re- 
proach. He accepted willingly the unfavourable 
judgments of men, and often when suddenly called 
upon to enter the pulpit without time for reflection, 
he was heard to say in his pleasant manner, " I shall 
run the risk of having it said that the poor Arch* 
bishop babbles, but there's not much harm in that." 
One trait demonstrates with especial force the sin- 
cere humility of the Cardinal. Throughout his career 
he sought to do good only in silence and obscurity, 
and was ever solicitous to shun the glare of honours 
and the noise of fame. While studying at the Sor- 
bonne with a degree of success which might have 
awakened in his heart hopes of a brilliant future, his 
sole desire was to obtain a professor's chair, and pass 
his days in retirement and quiet^ divided between 
study and prayer. When departing from England 
to devote himself to the mission of America, he be- 
held in the undertaking only an obscure, but useful 
and laborious career. If elevated to the prelacy, it 
was without his knowledge, and in despite of his 
opposition; and, as a Bishop, he was neither less 
humble nor less modest than when a simple priest. 
If recalled to France by the orders of the king, and 
subsequently obliged to pass from Montauban to the 
archbishopric of Bordeaux, he obeyed with unspeak- 
able pain; and if finally raised to the Cardinalate, he 



236 LIFE OF 

did every thing in his power to prevent his promo- 
tion, and never ceased to regret it to the hour of his 
death. Dignities filled him with dismay, and during 
a portion of his life constituted some of his greatest 
afflictions — so much so that, as he said, he was some- 
times tempted to wish for a little grain of ambition 
to sustain his courage under the weight of honours 
which overwhelmed him. " Providence/' he might 
well say, " has been very severe towards me; I have 
only desired insignificance, I have never felt aught 
but repugnance to honours, and my inclinations have 
been constantly crossed. " 

From these sentiments of humility there resulted a 
simplicity in his conduct and manners which was 
quite apostolical. The simplest things both in his 
clothing, lodgment, and food, were always the most 
to his taste. A small table and a chair with a bed 
of boards covered with a light mattrass, constituted 
all the furniture of his chamber, which was the 
meanest and least convenient of his palace. The 
large and commodious apartments which it contain- 
ed, were for the use of strangers. Being asked one 
day by a visiter, if an immense apartment in which 
was an elegant bed, was his sleeping room— "No," 
he replied laughingly, " it is the chamber and the bed 
of the Archbishop of Bordeaux; but the chamber and 
the bed of the little Cheverus are elsewhere." He 
had neither horses nor carriage, and went on foot 
through the streets, often alone, and in the very 
worst weather. When made a Cardinal he was im- 
portuned to purchase an equipage as an indispensa- 
ble appendage for one in his position. For a long 
time he resisted every argument, but at length he 
reluctantly yielded to the solicitations by which he 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 237 

was beset; and as it was feared that he would revoke 
the consent which had been wrung from him, the 
horses and vehicle were to be bought on the same 
day. A large number of mendicants, however, pre- 
sented themselves at the door of the palace. The 
spectacle so moved him that he could not brook the 
idea of spending on luxuries, money of which the 
poor had need; and causing abundant alms to be 
distributed at once among the unfortunate beings, he 
declared that he would have nothing more to do 
with the purchase of equipages. 

He had only two domestics, one for the kitchen, 
and the other for the service of his chamber and 
table. "The latter," he used jocosely to say, "is 
called my valet de chambre, though he has never 
officiated as such, nor even seen me except when 
completely dressed." He only made use of servants 
when he could not do without them. His principle 
was to wait upon himself as much as possible, as 
" the best means of being always served according to 
one's wish." He would go himself in quest of wood 
for his fire, and even to the kitchen to apprise the 
cook of the number of his expected guests, or ask 
for what he wanted. When any one wished to 
speak with him, there were no particular hours of 
audience to select, nor laqueys to introduce, nor 
antichamber to wait in, unless he was engaged at 
the moment with some other person. People went 
into his house as children enter the house of their 
father; without ceremony and at all hours. In his 
pastoral rounds, he travelled by whatever convey- 
ance he could find — a hackney coach, a steamboat, 
a horse, or a diligence, of which he always took the 
coupe for himself and his companions. During the 



238 LIFE OF 

time which he passed at Paris, he was wont to fre- 
quent the Confessional of the Grand Confessor, 
mixed up with the faithful by whom it was sur- 
rounded — so much was he in every thing an enemy 
of distinctions, and a lover of simplicity. 

Let it not be supposed, however, that so much 
self-abasement diminished in the least the considera- 
tion and respect which were due to his character. It 
was easily perceived by all who approached and 
listened to him, that if he was lowly, it was from 
virtue and not meanness of sentiment. His address, 
although unpretending, had something about it so 
lofty and delicate, his manners were so courteous, 
his taste was so exquisite, the tact with which he suit- 
ed his conversation and deportment to his company 
revealed so clearly the superior man, that he was al- 
ways approached with a sort of timid respect. His 
most intimate friends were accustomed to feel that 
sentiment. His simplicity, by showing him com- 
pletely such as he was, disencumbered of all the 
trappings of grandeur, made him appear only the 
greater and more imposing. Flatterers and favour- 
ites were unknown in his circle, from which also 
those low pleasantries that are sometimes admitted 
into conversation, were rigidly excluded. " They 
are unfitted," he used to say with St. Paul, " to the 
dignity of a Christian mouth, and if expressions of 
the kind may be excused in the vulgar, they always 
sully the lips of a priest." Independently of his per- 
sonal merit, his humility and religion had taught him 
a secret for gaining consideration and respect — the 
habit of treating others with deference. He was so 
respectful towards all, that they were forced, as it 
were, not to permit themselves to be outdone in 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 239 

courtesy; from which he drew the inference, that 
nothing constrains men to respect you so much as to 
respect them. 

The disinterestedness of the Cardinal was of the 
most beautiful kind. Virtue so austere as his had 
few desires and wants; a soul of such elevation was 
placed far above avarice. Riches were of no value 
in his eyes, and he never regarded what he possessed 
in the various positions of his career, but as a deposit 
which heaven had confided to him for distribution 
among the poor after his absolute necessities were 
supplied. The spirit of gain, especially in a priest 
and man of God, whose hopes should be in Hea- 
ven, had something base and unworthy in his eyes. 
To hoard nothing, in order not to incur the risk of 
becoming attached to worldly goods, and to owe 
nothing in order not to expose his creditors to loss, 
were his two rules of conduct. Before setting out 
for America, he impoverished himself by the renun- 
ciation of his patrimony; in America he lived poor, 
stripping himself of every thing to assist the needy, 
to such an extent that a friend one day told him that 
would not leave enough for the expenses of his fune- 
ral, to which he replied in his jocose way: "As to 
that matter, I am perfectly easy; when I am dead, I 
shall be able to make myself so disagreeable to all 
around, that they will be forced to bury me gratui- 
tously, and even to spend money if necessary, to get 
rid of my poor body." When he left America, he 
did so as destitute as he went there, abandoning even 
his library, a possession on which men of letters set 
especial value, and the last thing they are willing to 
part with. As Archbishop of Bordeaux, he gave 
away in proportion as he received, never allowing 



240 LIFE OF 

any part of the revenue of one year to be carried 
over to the next. " It would be," he said, " to mis- 
trust Providence, and such mistrust would be more 
sinful in me than in another person, since in the 
various vicissitudes of my life, Providence has never 
failed me, but has every day provided me with what- 
ever was requisite, and sometimes even with what 
was superfluous." Thence it was that he never 
would consent to any accumulation for the future; so 
that his steward was obliged to conceal from him the 
real state of his finances, in order to be always ready 
to meet expenses. One day he received a bequest of 
twenty thousand francs; an hour afterwards not a 
penny remained in his hands; it was all disposed of 
in alms. But it was not only in giving away all that 
he had, that his disinterestedness was displayed; it 
was still more admirably illustrated by the losses 
which befel him. When the revolution of July de- 
prived him of twenty-two thousand livres of income, 
the misfortune did not affect him for a single instant. 
Those who wished to condole with him, he answered 
with good-humoured pleasantries, adding, that he 
was still much too rich for himself, and in fact had 
lost nothing; that the poor, who alone lost the twenty- 
two thousand livres, were the only persons to be pitied. 
When informed, in the winter of 1S35, that the frost 
had destroyed all his vines, and that the loss would 
amount to many thousands of francs: " So much the 
better," he replied; "it is well that this accident has 
happened to me instead of to some poor proprietor or 
farmer, who depends for his support upon the annual 
produce of his lands;" and in uttering these words, 
not a shade of regret was perceptible on his face. 
How, indeed, could the illustrious Cardinal have 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 241 

been attached to worldly goods — he whose evan- 
gelical indifference to them was carried to the point 
of the severest mortification? He entertained a sove- 
reign contempt for all that ministers to bodily ease 
and luxury; dressed and ate in the simplest and 
most abstemious manner; studied during winter in a 
room without fire, except for the last two years of 
his life; washed his feet, hands, and head in cold 
water every morning, no matter what the severity of 
the weather; and braved, with unflinching compo- 
sure, the snows of December and the broiling sun of 
July. He never imposed upon himself any mortifi- 
cations which would be remarked, but he accepted 
without murmuring, and even without speaking of 
them, all the inconveniences, privations and suffer- 
ings which presented themselves: thus, for a long 
time, he endured the bites and annoyance of bugs 
with which his chamber was filled, without ever 
mentioning the circumstance, which was only dis- 
covered by an inspection and cleaning of the room 
when he was absent on a journey. He was alto- 
gether free from those habits to which so many men 
are slaves, and which, when once contracted, cannot 
be shaken off without danger to the health. To en- 
courage both himself and others to be patient under 
suffering, his advice was always, "Look beneath 
you and see the number of wretches for whom your 
situation would be one of happiness; then, instead 
of murmuring, bless Divine Providence for treating 
you so much more kindly than others." The mor- 
tification, however, which he esteemed the most, 
was that which consisted in exemplifying in his 
life what the apostle says of the Saviour: Chris tu$ 
non sibi placuit — Christ pleased not himself. That 

21 



242 LIFE OF 

he called the seal of true virtue; and it was by this 
mark that his virtue could be recognized. Never did 
he evince the least shadow of a disposition to con- 
sult his own wishes in matters appertaining to cha- 
rity, benevolence, or politeness. Truly the servant 
of all men, like the Apostle, St. Paul, he knew not 
how to refuse aught that it was possible for him to 
grant. Personal considerations were of no weight 
with him whatever; however disagreeable or irk- 
some a request might be, he never allowed his feel- 
ings to prevent him from complying with it. Some- 
times the demands for his services became so nume- 
rous and importunate, that any one else would have 
been overwhelmed by them; but he always pre- 
served his equanimity by a total abandonment of his 
own will — preaching ever and anon two or three 
times a day rather than disoblige, and suffering him- 
self to be intruded upon in his room from morning 
until night by incessant and often vexatious visits, 
rather than yield to the natural desire of living in 
peace and quiet at least for a while. When he was 
asked what hour would suit him best for the per- 
formance of a ceremony, he always answered, "that 
which is most convenient for the others." Some one 
once commiserated him at the end of a day during 
which he had not had a moment to himself: " Pro- 
vidence has done wisely," he replied; "he has dis- 
posed of all my instants, and perhaps if they had 
been left free, I might have made a bad use of them." 
It was not only to persons that the Cardinal thus 
kept his will in subjection, it was the same with 
regard to events. Amid all the crosses of life he 
was ever tranquil and resigned; and when he saw 
others giving way to discontent and spleen, he would 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 243 

gently say to them, " Why torment and worry your- 
self so much; nothing can happen but what God 
chooses.' 9 

The tolerance and indulgence of the Cardinal 
towards others, were as great as his severity towards 
himself. He laid it down as a principle, that one 
must not expect to live with angels upon earth, but 
with men who have their defects, and that religion 
consists in bearing with them in a spirit of charity. 
He was therefore distrustful of the extreme admira- 
tion which he would sometimes hear one person ex- 
press for another upon a first acquaintance: "So 
much the worse," he was wont to say, " the angel 
will turn into a human being, and admiration will 
then perhaps be converted into dislike; those alone 
can live in harmony with their neighbours who have 
made up their minds to tolerate some defects." He 
accordingly treated all, without distinction, with equal 
kindness, lamenting their faults or sins, but never 
molesting their persons; and far from regarding with 
an eye of hatred or ill-will those whose conduct was 
irregular, or whose opinions were erroneous, he 
showed them every mark of affection, because, as he 
said, they ceased not on account of their aberrations, 
to be brethren comprised in the first precept of cha- 
rity. He even, indeed, manifested in some respects, 
more attachment to them than to others, either be- 
cause they awakened in him the interest inspired by 
misfortune, there being no greater unhappiness in the 
world than to do or think evil, or because " the only 
means," to use his own words, " of bringing them 
back to virtue, is to show them that we love them 
greatly; if they suspect that we are hostile to them, 
we obstruct the path of return, and the door of their 



244 LIFE OP 

hearts will never be opened to us." That charity 
was incomprehensible to him which restricts itself to 
a narrow circle of good men, or men who agree with 
us in opinion, and feels for others coldness and indif- 
ference if not hatred. "If it were allowable," he 
often said, " not to love a man because he is in error 
or holds an opinion different from ours, charity would 
be banished from the earth, for it is only in heaven 
that we cannot be deceived." He strenuously com- 
bated the vulgar prejudice which transforms into 
wicked and ill-intentioned men all those who are 
opposed to us in religion or politics, remarking that 
only the profoundest ignorance of the world could 
cherish a feeling of the kind, and that, as for himself, 
he had encountered worthy, charitable, obliging, ex- 
cellent men in all religious sects and all political par- 
ties. He would every where have spread this truth 
in order that differences of belief or opinion might 
cease to be occasions of hatred among men, and ob- 
stacles to charity and union of hearts. 

But if the Cardinal was tolerant towards persons, 
he was inflexibly strict with regard to doctrines and 
every thing which duty enjoins. Equally attached 
to the rules of morality and the dogmas of faith, he 
lent no countenance to a deviation from either. Per- 
mission was often asked from him by Protestants or 
others, whose marriage had not been blessed by the 
church, to act as sponsors; but he invariably refused 
it, though in the gentlest and kindest manner. So 
also in respect to solicitations for ecclesiastical burial 
for suicides, or persons killed in duels, or those who 
had rejected the ministry of a priest. It was useless 
to make them. One day a deputation came to him 
to complain of a refusal by the curate of a parish, of 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 245 

such interment for a rich man who had never had 
his marriage blessed by the church during his life, 
and would have nothing to do with a clergyman 
when dying; and the spokesman undertook to de- 
claim against the intolerance of the curate. " The 
intolerance is all upon your side," said the Cardinal. 
"You will not suffer a priest to fulfil his duty, and 
wish to force him to recognize as a Catholic a man 
whose life and death were both anti-Catholic." 
Ashamed at finding themselves obnoxious to the 
same charge as they had preferred against their pas- 
tor, the envoys retired without saying another word. 
Thus, tolerant as he was in regard to persons, he ne- 
ver allowed himself to swerve from the straight line 
of duty, and religion knows no other tolerance. Any 
other species which the world might ascribe to M. de 
Cheverus with the idea of doing him honour, would 
be an insult to his memory, a slander upon his real 
sentiments. 

This rightly understood liberality had its source 
in an inexhaustible fund of mildness, the fruit of his 
religion and piety. Never did he exhibit any of 
those variations of humour, those sallies of petulance, 
those outbreaks of an embittered, discontented, or 
melancholy spirit, in which so many indulge, nor 
employ that angry tone of reproach which afflicts or 
irritates much more than it corrects, and indicates a 
man under the sway of bad temper rather than a 
minister inspired by charity. In all his ways he 
manifested the utmost tranquillity and gentleness of 
soul. If obliged to deal with contentious and head- 
strong individuals, he spoke to them mildly, and then 
allowed them to talk without further interruption, 

except by some kind word calculated to turn the 

21* 



246 LIFE OF 

conversation. It was an invariable rule with him 
never to have a quarrel or dispute with any one. 
" To dispute or quarrel," he used to say, " there 
must be two; and I do not wish to make a second to 
any one." Si quis videtur contentiosus esse, nos 
talem consuetudinem non habemus* He recom- 
mended nothing more strongly to his priests than this 
mildness in all their dealings with others. " Fortiter 
in re, suaviter in ?nodo" was his constant advice; 
"adhere with firmness to rules and principles; but in 
their application always use the greatest circumspec- 
tion and gentleness." He was fond of citing the 
example of St. John the Baptist, who had to do with 
the most cruel of tyrants, the ferocious Herod, but 
who, nevertheless, by his meekness succeeded in ob- 
taining sufficient influence over him to do him great 
good. " Eo audito" says the Gospel, speaking of 
the Saint, " Herodes multafaciebat" (Mark vi. 20.) 
It was by this amiable mildness that the Cardinal 
won all hearts. During forty years he communed 
with numerous functionaries at Boston, Montauban, 
and Bordeaux, but there is no instance known of any 
one's resisting his influence; all seemed eager to 
comply with his wishes and second his views. The 
empire thus possessed was not, however, gained by 
ever ceding any thing which duty forbade; his mild- 
ness was not weakness. " My friend," he said to a 
priest at the period of the revolution of July, " in my 
youth I confessed my faith at the peril of my life; 
and notwithstanding my years, I feel the same blood 
flowing in my veins with which they were formerly 
filled ; before betraying a duty, I would still be able, 

* 1 Cor. xi. 16. 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 247 

with the grace of God, to submit to banishment or 
death." He well knew how to say, when necessary, 
"it is not permissible/' non licet , (Matt. xiv. 4.); 
but he said it with so much frankness and sweetness 
that it was a pleasure even to be refused by him. 
Every one seemed to be at his disposal. " Every 
body spoils me," he said, "and I know not why." 
His modesty prevented him from seeing that it was 
his gentleness and goodness which won all hearts 
and subjugated all wills. This kindness of heart ex- 
tended to the brute creation. He could not bear to 
see them cruelly treated; inhumanity towards them 
he deemed the evidence of a bad disposition, and one 
of the marks of the impious man, as described by the 
Holy Spirit himself, who says, that the just man 
treats his beasts with tenderness and care, whilst the 
wicked have no bowels of compassion for them — 
u novit Justus jumentorum suorum animas, viscera 
autem impiorum crudelia" He never disdained 
to imitate the beautiful example of the Apostle St. 
John caressing his partridge; and when he was in 
America, the kind and careful manner in which he 
treated a horse that used to be lent to him when he 
went to visit the sick, had made the animal so fond 
of him, that whenever it perceived him it would im- 
mediately run up to him, and though difficult to be 
managed by others, was as docile as a lamb under 
his hands. 

The charity of the Cardinal was on a par with his 
mildness. No slanderous or ill-natured word ever 
passed his lips, and if any one happened to speak ill 
of another in his presence, he would adroitly turn the 
conversation, or, if he could properly do so, he would 
undertake the defence of the absent person, and say 



248 LIFE OF 

all the good of him he knew. Especially did it pain 
him to hear those who had been taken from this life 
made the subjects of unkind remark: de mortuis nil 
nisi bonum, was a maxim he loved to repeat, and 
always observed. So far from uttering aught against 
his neighbour, he was fearful even of thinking ill 
of him, and when he was sometimes obliged by 
his position to listen to an unfavourable report about 
an individual, he would suspend his judgment as 
long as possible, and seem unable to decide upon 
yielding credence to the statement. An opportunity 
of giving pleasure or doing a service, was perfect 
happiness to him. 

Nothing more engaging and delightful can be im- 
agined than the intimacy of the Cardinal. To render 
happy all by whom he was surrounded, was his con- 
stant effort. He was desirous that every one should 
consider himself at home in his house, ask without 
reserve for whatever was wanted, throw aside all 
ceremony and etiquette, and neither trouble himself 
nor others: to be neither troublesome nor troubled 
was his maxim. On that account he exacted the 
society of no one; but what he did not exact was 
eagerly bestowed. Every day after the evening 
meal, his guests were enabled to enjoy his company, 
and it was then that he appeared in the most attrac- 
tive point of view — kind and cheerful, simple and 
great. 

The happiness of residing with the Cardinal was 
not confined to those who seated themselves at his 
table ; his domestics had their full share of it. No- 
thing was omitted by him to ameliorate their condi- 
tion. He never made use of a harsh word, nor 
assumed the slightest air of superiority towards 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 249 

them; if they behaved ill, he overlooked the fault, or 
if it required notice, his reproval partook more of the 
affection of a father than the severity of a master. 
Their wages were of the highest kind, and were often 
increased by presents; they were fed like himself; 
and if they fell sick, he tended them, and took as 
much care of them as if they fe had been his children. 
His hospitality, also, was unbounded. It would be 
difficult to count the number of persons to whom it 
was extended in every way. " Of all the virtues/' 
he used to say, " which St. Paul requires in a bishop, 
I have but one — that of hospitality : Oportet episco- 
pum esse hospitalem. (Tit. 1, 7, 8.) 

Towards the poor, the infirm, the afflicted, his 
benevolence was boundless. Their sufferings were 
his own. With the apostle he might have said : 
Quzs infirmatur et ego non infirmor ? " Who suffers 
without my suffering with him." To be wretched 
was a certain passport to his affection. Surprise was 
sometimes excited by the circumstance of persons, 
who previously had had no intercourse with him, all 
at once becoming connected with him in the most 
intimate way; and when the cause was sought, it 
was invariably discovered that the individual had 
been the victim of some misfortune, which the Car- 
dinal was using all his efforts to alleviate. The very 
thought of the miseries which so many of his fellow 
creatures were enduring around him, filled his bosom 
with anguish; on that of the tortures to which the 
reprobate were exposed in the next world, he could 
not dwell for an instant. Being once invited to 
preach on the subject of Hell, he was so overcome, 
by the idea of the torments in which such multitudes 
were there plunged, that his voice was stifled by 



250 LIFE OP 

sobs, and at the end of a few minutes, he was obliged" 
to desist and leave the pulpit. 

The care of the sick he esteemed one of the most 
admirable acts of Christian charity, especially pleasing 
in the sight of God — one to which the greatest graces 
were attached. To have a share in these, he always, 
both in America and France, kept an invalid domes- 
tic in his house, on whom he lavished every atten- 
tion, and from whom he asked no service save such 
as he chose to render. At Bordeaux he had likewise 
always with him an infirm or sick clergyman, and 
sometimes even two; and in order that all the little 
cares to which they were used might be continued, 
and that nothing might be changed in their habits, he 
at the same time, by a delicate and peculiar thought- 
fulness, engaged the servants who had been in the 
custom of tending them, and gave them nothing to do 
which might interfere with their duties to their for- 
mer masters. 

To the alms of the Cardinal there was no limit. 
For the sake of the poor he deprived himself of every 
thing that was not of absolute necessity, never in- 
dulging in any expense for the gratification of fancy 
or taste. He seemed even to begrudge his food in 
thinking of their wants. One day a magnificent 
breakfast having been prepared for him in a house 
where he was on such terms of intimacy as to allow 
him to act as he did, he caused it to be all given to 
the poor; and upon another occasion, when dining 
alone at home, having learned that a family was en- 
tirely destitute, he immediately sent his dinner to 
them, reserving for himself as little as possible. 
Every Wednesday and Friday he made a general 
distribution of alms, and in order to regulate and 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERTTS. 251 

proportion them according to the wants of those on 
whom they were bestowed, one of his priests was 
charged with the duty of obtaining from the curates 
of the different parishes exact information about the 
condition of each individual. Besides these regular 
alms, he gave something to every poor person he 
met, particularly to that class of the indigent which 
is the most to be pitied, because its misery is con- 
cealed — the bashful poor who went to him as to a 
tender father to open their hearts and confide to him 
all their troubles and distress. Almost every day 
among the numerous visits he received, there were 
some of that description, which greatly swelled the 
amount of his alms, as the quality and position of the 
individuals often rendered the giver ashamed to offer 
a little. He furnished liberal aid to every good work, 
to every philanthropic measure of the civil adminis- 
tration ; sometimes he paid out of his own funds en- 
gagements which the contractors of them could not 
honour, and thereby prevented disgraceful proceed- 
ings ; in a word, he gave all that he had, and even 
then seemed to reproach himself for not having given 
enough, "because/' he said, "the poor seeing this 
beautiful episcopal palace, imagine that a man so 
well established ought to be able to give them much 
more than I bestow." When, however, he had no 
more to bestow of his own, he still had the consola- 
tion of giving, as the wealthy took pleasure in mak- 
ing him the depository and dispenser of their chari- 
ties, knowing that it was the greatest delight they 
could procure for him, and that their alms passing 
through so pure a channel, and distributed by so 
wise a hand, would be more agreeable to God, and 
more beneficially employed. 



252 LIFE OF 

There was something peculiarly beautiful in the 
attentions of the Cardinal to old age. He strictly 
obeyed the injunction of Scripture which commands 
respect to the hoary head — coram cano capite con- 
surge, (Lev. xix. 32,) and loved, in his own words, 
" To embellish the last moments of an existence which 
verges to its close, to gild the horizon of life for those 
who are soon to quit it." He considered this rever- 
ence for age as a certain mark of solid virtue, and 
whenever he learnt that young priests who were as- 
sociated with a veteran of the sanctuary, were prodi- 
gal of attentions to him, were solicitous to conceal 
from him, as it were, the fact of his enfeebled strength 
by effacing themselves as much as possible, consult- 
ing him about every thing, and using kindly efforts 
to make him imagine that it was he who still did all 
that was done in the parish, that he was the head 
that directed, and they only the arms that executed, 
he wished no other evidence of their character: 
"that alone," he would say, "makes me perfectly 
acquainted with those priests ; their virtue has the 
true stamp;" his confidence was at once yielded to 
them, and no occasion was omitted of giving them 
the most striking proofs of his sentiments. 

Ardent, however, as was the zeal of the Cardinal 
de Cheverus to alleviate the sufferings of the body, 
his solicitude was still more keen for the salvation of 
souls exposed to the peril of being lost for ever. 
From his youth his heart had glowed with the sub- 
lime fire which impels a man to devote his whole ex- 
istence to the guidance of his fellow beings in the 
path of eternal happiness. It was that sacred flame 
which caused him to make choice of the ecclesiastical 
profession, and during the whole course of his life 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 253 

was the living principle of his thoughts and actions 
and toils. It was from the same source that he de- 
rived that apostolical zeal by which he was always 
animated, however numerous and formidable the ob- 
stacles it was compelled to surmount. A sinner 
whom he had reconciled to God, a dying man whom 
he had prepared to meet his Judge, an ignorant one 
whom he had instructed, a dangerous one whom he 
had converted into a useful member of society, made 
him forget all his fatigues. 

In the various acts of his episcopal administration, 
he was always guided by the purest aims. Never 
were they influenced in the least by partiality or 
favouritism, so that he was fully authorized to say 
towards the close of his life, that he had no fear of 
being reproached by God for having made a single 
nomination from human views, or having in any 
instance, desired aught but the greatest good of the 
church. He was particularly averse to the interfe- 
rence of women in the appointment of functionaries. 
A priest whose promotion was urged by any influence 
of the kind, was sure to find it rather an impediment 
than an assistance. Before filling any place, he 
prayed, consulted, deliberated, and then made the 
nomination himself, at least for places of some im- 
portance : " I will answer for it to God," he said, 
" and must not throw the responsibility upon any 
one else." If in these nominations he thought he 
ought to consult the tastes of his clergy, it was not 
from any human motives, but because he was con- 
vinced that what is done unwillingly is done ill, 
and that repugnance paralyzes effort and freezes 
zeal. 

One of the most admirable effects of the zeal which 

22 



254 LIFE OP 

inspired the Cardinal, was to be remarked in his ser- 
mons. During the twenty-seven years he passed in 
America, he preached constantly every Sunday and 
feast day, and in France he never lost an occasion of 
announcing the words of divine truth; yet it always 
cost him a considerable effort. The high idea which 
he entertained of the sublime duty of teaching the 
Gospel, the reverence which he felt for the word of 
God, prevented him from ever going into the pulpit 
without preparation. He usually wrote out the plan 
of his discourse with an indication of the leading 
ideas that he intended to present, and then never 
ceased until the last moment to reflect upon the sub- 
ject on which he was to speak. " People are greatly 
deceived in regard to me/' he said to one of his 
friends; "they think that preaching costs me nothing; 
gives me no trouble; I never go into the pulpit with- 
out previously experiencing a sort of uneasy fermen- 
tation of mind, and a general agitation of spirit, 
which distresses me exceedingly/' To credit this 
statement, it was necessary to hear it from the Cardi- 
nal's lips; for there was every reason to suppose that 
he was free from all disquietude in the pulpit. Versed 
in ancient and modern literature, both sacred and 
profane; understanding thoroughly the human heart, 
familiar with the forms and customs of society, he 
had moreover a long practice of preaching, an elocu- 
tion full of soul and fervour, a clear and sonorous 
voice, natural and imposing gestures, a prodigious 
memory, a correct and penetrating judgment, a grace- 
ful and brilliant imagination, the purest taste, and an 
exquisite tact which enabled him truly to affirm that 
God had given him the grace never to say aught in 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 255 

the pulpit of which he had afterwards cause to re- 
pent. 

His sermons were not academical discourses in 
which every thing is studied and polished ; in which 
pomp of style, and glitter of imagery, and refine- 
ment of thought, seem to ask the admiration of the 
audience for the orator; he did not even, usually, in- 
dulge in those grand oratorical bursts which seize 
and carry away the hearer, although he might, 
doubtless, have perfectly succeeded in them, had he 
chosen. The style which he had adopted as the 
most useful and conformable to the spirit of the Gos- 
pel, was that pursued by the Fathers of the Church, 
whose instructions are not pompous and solemn 
harangues, but the conversations of a parent giving 
lessons to his children, explaining to them clearly 
what they ought to believe and to practise, exhort- 
ing them to virtue in simple and unpretending lan- 
guage but with earnestness and force, and often with 
a species of sublime eloquence in their outpourings 
of faith and love. To imitate them, the first object 
at which the Cardinal aimed was clearness. Vary- 
ing his language according to the intelligence of his 
auditors, bringing down the sublimest truths to the 
level of the most ordinary capacities, he made his 
plan, his reasonings, his thoughts and his words so 
perfectly clear, that the most ignorant were enabled 
to give an exact account of them both as to their 
substance and principal details. It was a remark of 
the Cardinal, that of all compositions a sermon is the 
one which should be the clearest, not excepting our 
familiar letters and conversation, because in the former 
a second perusal may explain the sense of an ob- 
scure passage, and in the latter explanations may be 



256 LIFE OF 

asked of what is not understood, whilst in a sermon 
every thing must be comprehended at once, because 
custom and propriety will not allow explanations to 
be asked of the preacher. Next to clearness, the 
quality by which his sermons were most distinguish- 
ed was appropriateness. He kept no stock of ready 
made sermons to be produced at all times and in all 
places, as if audiences had every where the same in- 
telligence and wants. He thought that each coun- 
try, each epoch, each circumstance presented different 
shades which required a different language; that the 
orator ought not always to strike the same chords in 
the human heart, but should be able to discern those 
most proper at the moment to be touched ; and that 
it was this pertinency, this inspiration drawn from 
the circumstances by which the preacher is surround- 
ed, which secures interest, attention and success to a 
discourse. During his whole career he never repeat- 
ed a sermon. Whatever was his subject he contrived 
to give it a new aspect, and sometimes he took his 
theme from external circumstances, even from the 
rigours of the season, as when in the midst of a 
severe winter, he chose for his text the words of the 
Canticle — Benedicite, gelu et frigus Domino, "frost 
and cold bless ye the Lord." Twenty-seven times 
he pronounced the panegyric of St. Patrick, and 
twenty-seven times he pronounced a new one. If 
he was to preach in aid of a good work, instead of a 
vague discourse upon charity, he developed the na- 
ture of the work to be assisted, the interest it should 
excite, the motives for upholding it, and said nothing 
which had not some relation to it. If he was not 
well acquainted with the circumstances appertaining 
to the matter about which he was to speak, he took 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 257 

care to inform himself thoroughly concerning them; 
and all details about persons and things found their 
place so naturally in his sermon, that it rather seemed 
that they were brought in for the purpose of strength- 
ening his arguments and proofs, than that the ser- 
mon was accommodated to them. He was pecu- 
liarly happy, also, in turning any sudden incident to 
account: "In my oratorical poverty," he said, "I 
seize upon every thing I can find to supply my defi- 
ciencies." From a thousand examples the follow- 
ing may be selected. Preaching on one occasion at 
Bordeaux for the cause of good books, he had de- 
monstrated their utility in enlightening the mind and 
forming the heart, and was showing the danger of 
bad ones in spoiling the judgment and corrupting the 
heart, without adding any thing to the true illumina- 
tion of the intellect, when all at once the Jesuits, with 
their pupils, entered the church. " I call as wit- 
nesses," he immediately cried, "to the truth of what 
I have said, those young men, the hope of France 
and the pride of our country. They read none but 
good books, they hold bad and pernicious ones in 
horror, and yet there is nothing wanting in the culti- 
vation of their minds. I call as witnesses that learn- 
ed society which has formed the finest geniuses of 
France, which has always borne away the palm in 
the difficult art of rearing youth and maturing talent: 
good books are the only means they have employed." 
The third characteristic by which the sermons of 
the Cardinal were eminently distinguished, was the 
Gospel-spirit, so to speak, which they breathed. 
They were all imbued with the scriptures, so that 
they were in truth but the word of God commented 

upon and explained to the faithful. So familiar was 

22* 



258 LIFE OF 

the Bible to him, that its most felicitous passages, its 
most striking traits, its most touching narratives were 
always present to his mind, furnishing the most effec- 
tive embellishments and illustrations of his theme. 
He used to say that philosophical disquisitions were 
very well in academies, but that in the pulpit the 
word of God should alone furnish the preacher with 
his proofs, his exhortations and his counsels. An- 
other charm was spread over his sermons by the ex- 
quisite sensibility with which his breast was endued. 
His idea was that the heart is first to be addressed, 
that when it is once touched, every thing is gained, 
the mind no longer thinks of reasoning, and the will 
submits. Thus, in his mouth religion always pre- 
sented herself in her most winning and tender aspect 
as a mother overflowing with love for all, especially 
for those who suffer, solicitous to alleviate every woe, 
to dry every tear except those of compassion and 
benevolence, to lavish upon man even here below all 
the happiness of which he is susceptible, to behold 
all her children cordially united as one family, aid- 
ing and cherishing one another as brethren, forming 
but one heart and one soul. "My beloved," such 
was his constant exhortation, "let us love one ano- 
ther; we are all children of the same Father, all 
brethren in Jesus Christ, all members of the same 
body, of which our divine Saviour is the head." 
The tenderness of his heart shone forth with especial 
fervour when he spoke of the divisions occasioned by 
differences of opinion: " Oh! shame, oh! disgrace of 
Christianity! formerly the Pagans exclaimed at the 
spectacle offered by the first Christians, See how 
they love one another! but, alas! at the sight of the 
divisions into which the very bosom of religion is 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 259 

now torn, they would be mueh more tempted to cry- 
out, See how they hate each other! Tell me not that 
those men whom you do not love, are reprobates, 
enemies of religion. My brethren, it is religion her- 
self that supplicates you to love those who hate her. 
You are little acquainted with that holy religion, if 
you deem it possible to honour and serve her at the 
expense of charity. God loves so tenderly even those 
who do not love her, that he commands you, under 
pain of eternal punishment, not only to bear with 
them, but to love them as you love yourselves, to 
love them as he himself hath loved us, and to beheld 
in them always, in spite of their transgressions, bro- 
thers in Jesus Christ, children of our heavenly and 
common Father." It may easily be conceived how 
irresistible must have been this sensibility of the Car- 
dinal when urging relief for the wants of the sick 
and the poor. " I throw myself at your feet," he 
sometimes said to his hearers, " to implore your cha- 
rity; behold me there with the children whom the 
Lord hath confided to me — ecce ego et pueri quos de- 
dit mihi Dominus, (Isaiah viii. 18.) I am the father 
of a family who cannot nourish all his children, who 
asks you for bread for them; will you refuse it to 
me? Oh! be assured of my gratitude and that of my 
numerous family." He would then expatiate upon 
the delicious sensations, the sweet delight which a 
kind heart tastes in doing good; benefacit animse 
suse vir misericors, (Pro v. xi. 17.) "Then we im- 
bibe the flavour of something celestial, we shed tears 
of happiness, tears pure as the crystal stream which 
flows before the throne of the Lamb." (Apoc. xxii. 
1.) After having thus gained the mastery of his au- 
dience, and filled them with charitable resolves, he 



260 LIFE OP 

would explain the means of carrying these into 
effect; dwelling upon the necessity not only of cordia- 
lity in their gifts, because the Lord loves those who 
give with joy, but of delicacy, and a species of respect 
and tenderness which soothes the painful feelings of 
the poor. " My son," he said, with the Holy Spirit, 
" mingle not reproaches with the good which you do, 
and never join harsh and afflicting words with your 
gifts. As the dew refreshes the earth parched by the 
heat of the sun, a kind word is more consoling than 
a benefit to the soul withered and seared by misery. 
The just man gives both, whilst the unfeeling one in- 
flicts bitter reproaches upon those whom he assists, 
and the gift of the indiscreet prostrates the poor 
wretch who receives it." To bestow alms unkind- 
ly, he also said, is to dissolve a pearl m vinegar; it 
is to despoil charity of one of her essential characte- 
ristics, which is benignity — caritas benigna est. (1 
Cor. xiii. 4.) He loved to cite the examples of Boaz, 
who directed his reapers to leave ears of corn in the 
furrows, that Ruth might make an abundant collec- 
tion without blushing; of the patriarch Joseph who 
said to his brethren, " weep not, I will nourish you 
and your children," and spoke to them in language 
of kindness and affection; of Joseph of Arimathea, 
Nicodemus, and the holy women who embalmed the 
body of Jesus Christ. " The alms," he said, " with 
which you relieve the living members of that divine 
Saviour, are, in his eyes, delicious perfumes with 
which you embalm his body; but do ho lily an action 
so holy, and treat the members of Jesus Christ with 
suitable delicacy and respect." 

Thus did M. de Cheverus pour out the fullness of 
his tender heart. His discourses, undoubtedly, were 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 261 

strewn with pointed and delicate thoughts, with 
sparkling and graceful phrases ; but it was his sensi- 
bility which constituted the great and irresistible 
charm of his eloquence. 

Such was this illustrious Cardinal, whose mortal 
malady occurred in the month of July, 1836. For a 
long time he had begged of God the blessing, as he 
deemed it, of a sudden death,* desiring to spare those 
around him the care and trouble of a protracted sick- 
ness. Heaven seemed to have heard his prayer. On 
the 7th of July, after the conclusion of the immense 
labours which we mentioned at the close of the last 
book, he experienced a perturbation of ideas and a 
loss of recollection which frightened his friends, and 
caused him to believe that his end was near. The 
physicians prescribed remedies, but deeming his fate 
fixed and all prescriptions useless, he thought only of 
preparing himself for the great change, added a codi- 
cil to his will, and made his confession. On the 14th, 
at five o'clock in the morning, he was struck by a 
blow of apoplexy and paralysis which at once de- 
prived him of all sense and feeling. Extreme unction 
was immediately administered; the prayer of the 
forty hours was ordered to be said in all the churches 
and chapels of the city, and the multitude in tears 
thronged around the altar to pray for the restoration 
of their beloved pastor. Every resource of the medi- 
cal art was employed, but to no purpose; prayer was 
the only means left. An altar was fitted up in the 
chamber of the dying man, where prayers were con- 

* In reciting the litanies of the Saints, instead of saying : A Subi- 
taned et improvisd morte libera nos, Domine, he only said Ab impro- 
visd morte libera nos, Domine. 



262 LIFE OF 

stantly said by surpliced priests. On the third day, 
the chapter went in a body to recite the prayers for 
persons in the last agony, and from that moment 
until all was over, the painful duty was not for an 
instant intermitted, the priests of the city and those 
of other parts of the diocese whom the intelligence 
of the Cardinal's state had brought to Bordeaux, suc- 
ceeding one another in its performance. During the 
whole time, the virtuous clergyman, who, under the 
auspices of M. de Cheverus, had been the instrument 
of so many good works, the Abbe Dupuch, remained 
near the bed of death, like a child near the couch of 
his father, suggesting devotional sentiments to the 
dying man in the hope that he might not be altoge- 
ther insensible, although such was the opinion of the 
physicians. The approach to the palace was blocked 
up by the crowds who sought news of his condition; 
the authorities of the city were untiring in their visits; 
clergy, laity, physicians, all emulously claimed the 
privilege of watching day and night by his side. On 
the 18th, mass was celebrated in his room; on the 
19th, it was said three times; during the fourth, at 
the very moment of the elevation, his soul burst the 
last bonds of its captivity, and he expired softly with- 
out a struggle, the day being that on which the church 
celebrates the feast of St. Vincent de Paul, whose 
virtues he had in so many respects revived. 

The event, although expected, produced all the 
impression of an unforeseen accident. The only dry 
eye in the palace was that of the Confessor of the 
Cardinal, a venerable priest who had come with him 
from America, although the deepest marks of grief 
were engraved upon his face: "I would wish to weep 
like you/' he said to those around, "but I cannot ; if 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 263 

I have lost a friend, heaven has gained a Saint. " From 
the palace, lamentation soon spread throughout the 
city and the diocese. The multitude pressed round 
the gates to obtain a last view of the features they 
had so loved to behold ; and when the body, dressed 
in the grand costume of a Cardinal, had been deposited 
in the illuminated chapel prepared for the purpose, 
they were admitted. For two days the concourse 
was undiminished — all ranks and conditions were 
confounded in it. Intense and protracted suffering 
had left their traces upon the countenace, and the 
rigid and mournful hue of death was spread over it, 
but the gazers thought they still perceived that ex- 
pression of goodness which was habitual to it, and 
which had won so many hearts. A few words only 
escaped from the deep grief of the spectators. " Oh 
the good pastor, the charitable man !" mourned some 
as they wiped away the tears which bedewed their 
cheeks — " No, said others sobbing, never will the poor 
forget him." " We must console him for having left 
us," said a man of the lower orders, "by loving one 
another, as he so often exhorted us to do when he 
called us his iveZl-beloved." All were eager to touch 
the body with som^ devotional article, as a cross, a 
medal, or a rosary — all would have desired to obtain 
something which belonged to him, but precautions 
were taken to prevent the public veneration from 
carrying off piece-meal the habiliments in which the 
corpse was enveloped. It was wished to embalm the 
body, but the family of the Cardinal opposed the de- 
sign from respect to his wishes ; as he had often du- 
ring his life blamed the practice of embalming the 
dead — "we are dust, he said, and must return to 
dust." He would even have desired his remains to 



264 LIFE OP 

be interred without much ceremony and display, and 
had in fact directed that, if he died in the course of 
any of his pastoral visits, he should be buried in the 
cemetery of the parish in which he expired. His 
wishes, however, in this respect it was not deemed 
proper to carry out. 

The body was exposed in the chapel for seven 
days, during the whole of which time masses were 
said from morning to noon, and the office of the dead 
was recited from noon until evening by the clergy of 
the different parishes. The 26th of July was the day 
of the funeral obsequies. They were celebrated with 
the utmost magnificence, and with all the tender 
veneration which the virtues and dignity of the illus- 
trious deceased commanded. The cathedral was rich- 
ly hung, and in the middle of the nave a superb cata- 
falque was raised, decorated with the arms of his 
eminence, and with all his insignia and emblems, 
both as Cardinal and Archbishop. The procession 
was composed of all the religious corporations and 
communities of the city, of all the civil, military and 
judicial authorities, of a large portion of the clergy of 
the various sections of the diocese, together with the 
bishops of Perigueax and Rochelle, who had come to 
pay the last honours to their metropolitan. It passed 
through the principal quarters of the city, in the 
midst of the troops of the line and the national 
guards, who vied with each other in their efforts to 
render the ceremonial orderly and imposing; and 
every where along its route, a silent multitude testi- 
fied, by their mournful aspect, the grief, respect and 
love with which they were filled. There was one 
moment especially when all hearts were inexpressi- 
bly affected, that at which the procession reached 



ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 265 

the spot where, four months before, M. de Cheverus 
had made his solemn entry into Bordeaux, invested 
with the Roman purple, and saluted with deafening 
shouts of triumph and delight. The approximation 
of so much joy and so much grief, of so much glory 
and the tomb, presented a contrast which no breast 
could resist. After the usual prayers and ceremonies, 
the revered remains were deposited in the principal 
vault of the cathedral. That, however, was only a 
temporary disposition of them, all minds and hearts 
having at once united in the project of erecting in the 
church a monument fit to receive ashes so holy and 
dear. It is now in progress, and there is every rea- 
son to believe that it will be a monument worthy of 
the diocese of Bordeaux, worthy of the metropolis of 
Aquitania, worthy, above all, of the eminence and 
virtues of him who is to repose within it, in the hope 
of the resurrection. 



23 



MEMORIALS 

OF 

CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 



MEMORIAL. 

United States of America, Boston, April 22, 1823. 
To his serene highness the Prince of Croij, 

Grand Almoner of France, and Bishop of Strasburg. 

We have taken upon ourselves a painful and a responsible 
duty. We rejoice that the exalted merit of Monseigneur L'Eve- 
que Cheverus, is so justly appreciated by your highness, and by 
his sovereign, and the evidence of his worth is found in the dis- 
tinguished favour of a nomination to the bishopric of Montauban- 
That we should interfere in the hope of preventing his transla- 
tion to the higher scene of social and pious usefulness, demands 
an entire justification. 

It is found in this : the Catholics of this place, and of the New 
England states, are generally a description of persons, who need 
not only instruction as to their great duties as Christians, but 
also advice, consolation, encouragement or correction in their 
temporal concerns. 

To accomplish objects, so important to them, and so necessary 
to the good order of society, the most commanding confidence is 
indispensable in their ecclesiastical rulers. 

It is impossible for us to make known to you, by any words, 
how entire, grateful, and beneficent is the dominion of bishop 
Cheverus over all to whom he ministers in his apostolic autho- 
rity. We hold him to be a blessing and a treasure in our social 



268 MEM ORIALS OF 

community, which we cannot part with, and which, without in- 
justice to any man, we may affirm, if withdrawn from us, can 
never be replaced. 

If the removal to the proposed diocess, would be conformable 
to his wishes, we should mourn over this in silence. 

If it proceed from your own wishes, and those of his sovereign, 
to have this truly estimable prelate associated in the immediate 
church of France, it would not become us, to attempt to oppose 
those wishes. But if the removal can be referred to the princi- 
ple of usefulness, we may safely assume that in no place, nor 
under any circumstances, can bishop Cheverus be situated where 
his influence, whether spiritual, moral, or social, can be so exten- 
sive, as where he now is. 

In the sincere hope, that this excellent divine, and amiable 
gentleman, may consistently with the wishes and views of your 
highness, and of the worthy sovereign of France, remain to orna- 
ment and bless our community, 

We have the honour to be, 

With the highest consideration, 
And the most entire respect, 

(signed by 222 gentlemen.) 



After these communications were sent to France, he appeared 
relieved from the agitation attending a decision of a point so im- 
portant to himself and others. He thought the question of his 
translation at an end ; but it was not so. The solicitations were 
renewed from such high authority, that they came to him in the 
nature of a summons, which could not be refused; and he com- 
menced the preparations for an early departure. A few days 
previous to his leaving Boston, his flock presented him the fol- 
lowing address. It was a grievous calamity to lose him ; but he 
had taught them to submit to the dispensations of Providence 
without repining. He left them prosperous, arid in the care of 
men deep in the affections and confidence of every member of 
the congregation, and highly respected by the whole community. 



CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 269 

ADDRESS. 

Dear Father: — Permit your flock, penetrated and subdued 
by grief, to place before you an humble offering of gratitude and 
affection. Your departure, which has now become certain, is to 
us a most afflicting dispensation of Providence ; and the event 
has inflicted a wound, whose anguish time may assuage, but can 
never heal. The thought of this separation brings with it a 
thousand recollections which labour for a tongue to reveal them- 
selves; but perhaps it were better they should not be freely 
spoken; for we know by long experience, that your delicacy 
would shrink at once from even such a bare recital as the cold- 
est and most careless of us would make in sincerity and truth. 

As a religious community, we were connected and consoli- 
dated under your auspices; and by your watchings and your 
prayers we have enjoyed the smiles of an indulgent Heaven ; 
but at this solemn moment of parting, probably forever, the 
memory of the dead crowds upon us, in the loved form of him, 
who gathered us as a flock, and who with you walked hand in 
hand, labouring for our good ; but this kind pastor to us, this co- 
adjutor and friend to you, the ever lamented Matignon, has 
passed to a better world, to receive the reward of the faithful 
and the just. The living and the dead together possess our 
hearts. 

At this crisis, when the agony of separation is fast coming 
upon us, we cannot entirely stifle our feelings, and we must, and 
we will, amidst our tears and lamentations, catch hold of your 
garments as you turn to leave us, and utter some feint cry of 
your services and our attachment. 

You have fed the hungry and clothed the naked; brought 
back the wandering; reclaimed the vicious; shared the joys of 
the happy; softened the pains of the suffering; held the medici- 
nal cup to the sick and parched lip; and taught the dying that, 
through faith and repentance, he might repose his hopes on the 
bosom of redeeming love. 

Most spiritual guides go no farther than to instruct in spiritual 
matters ; but you have not stopped there, nor there considered 
your work as finished; for you have come down, as it were, 
from the altar of God, to the common offices of mankind, to give 

. 23* , 



270 MEMORIALS OF 

us council and direction in our temporal concerns. We believe 
it seldom happens, that one so devoted to things divine, should 
be so wise in the business of the world ; but this wisdom has not 
been shown by collecting perishable riches for yourself; but in 
striving to increase intelligence, comfort, and respectability 
among the people of your charge. 

At your approach, discord fled from among us ; for in every 
lecture, in every strain of devotion, you have breathed the mild 
and holy spirit of the new commandment to calm the irritations 
and quiet the heart burnings incident to frail humanity; and we 
trust in grace that this example, and these instructions will have 
a salutary influence on our lives, when you are no longer with 
us to advise and direct us in the paths of duty, virtue, and 
religion. 

You are going, dear father, to a distant country, where honour 
waits your coming, and where new duties are to thicken upon 
you ; but we entreat you, that even in the joy of beholding your 
native land — in the transports of embracing kindred and friends, 
and in the fresh activity of ecclesiastical engagements, that you 
will remember us, who can never forget you. 

May the mild climate of Montauban restore and confirm your 
health, and awaken your spirits to life and happiness ; and may 
God in his mercy and goodness, continue you for many years, a 
name and a praise in the church. And when you shall sleep 
with your fathers, and be numbered with the great and the good 
of other times, may our descendants here, learn that your bless- 
ing fell upon your first, as on your second love ; and that Boston 
and Montauban were remembered together in your dying bene- 
diction. 

William Taylor, Rector,^ 

T. Wallet, 

John McNamara, 

John Ward, 

WlLLAM L. CAZNEATT, 

Francis McKenna, 
Boston, Sept 16th, 1823. 



Committee 

of 
Congregation, 



ANSWER. 

My dear children in Jesus Christ: — Your kind address has 
been presented to me, and is wet with my tears. How unwilling 



CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 271 

I am to leave you, I hope you all know, and have seen how 
cheerfully I refused, last May, the appointment which I must 
now accept. 

Since it becomes a necessity, it behooves you and myself to 
submit. 

My services, so gratefully noticed by you, have been at least, 
prompted by a sincere heart, entirely devoted to your spiritual 
and even temporal welfare. 

It was, as it were, at the school of the regretted and sainted 
Doctor Matignon, that I learnt how to love and serve you. Re- 
member him always as the founder of this church. 

I expected my mortal remains to be deposited with his, and 
never can you honour or gratify me more than by uniting our 
names in your blessing and remembrance. 

Remembered and cherished you will be, as long as I breathe. 
Never shall I cease to watch over my dear flock with paternal 
anxiety. Happy if I can at any time do any thing for you. 
Excuse my faults in the exercise of my ministry ; pray that they 
may be forgiven by the Supreme Pastor. I feel consolation in 
leaving you under the direction of the Rev. William Taylor, 
rector of this church, whose talents and piety are already known 
to you, and who has been for more than two years my faithful 
co-operator. 

My beloved children, I press you all to my paternal bosom. I 
wish, and still have some hopes, to come to you again, and in- 
dulge the comforting hope that we shall be united in the king- 
dom of our Heavenly Father. 

John Cheverus. 



DEATH OF CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 

This painful announcement made in our last is confirmed by 
the Paris Journals received this week from Havre. The Paris 
V Ami states that on Wednesday, the 13th of July, a second at- 
tack of apoplexy and paralysis occurred, and on Thursday, the 
14th, all hopes of recovery were extinguished, and soon after he 
expired. He was only sixty-eight years and six months old, be- 
ing born on the 28th of January, 1768. The highest virtues — the 



272 MEMORIALS OF 

highest qualities of the heart and mind characterized this incom- 
parable prelate. No individual in America and Europe, will re- 
peat that consecrated name, without participating in those sen- 
sations of indescribable and holy veneration, which so much 
goodness and so much unearthly purity has created, and all feel 
that that name will be reverenced by after generations with all 
its honours and all its triumphs. We will not attempt an ade- 
quate delineation of his life ; the attempt would only unfold our 
own inability. We leave that to some master-spirit of the age. 
We cannot say in the words of Job — " Who will grant me that 
my words may be written ? who will grant me, that they may be 
marked down in a book ? with an iron pen, and in a plate of lead, 
or else be graven with an instrument in flint stone ?" Peace 
to his undying shade! for "we shall never look upon his like 
again." 



FUNERAL OF ARCHBISHOP CHEVERUS. 

[Translated from the Indicateur Bordelais of July 27.] 
The inhabitants of Bordeaux will long keep in remembrance 
the imposing ceremonies with which the remains of this vene- 
rable prelate were yesterday committed to the earth. Never 
have we beheld a funeral more grand, more solemn, or more 
affecting ; never has any occurrence gathered together, in our 
city, a concourse so immense. The most moderate computation 
gives 24,000 persons, of both sexes, as the number of those who 
thronged the streets through which the procession passed. 

From 6 o'clock in the morning these streets were crowded ; 
the windows, balconies, and roofs were alive with deeply inte- 
rested spectators. Calmness and resignation were in every 
countenance, and the silence of grief pervaded the whole of this 
vast assemblage. 

As the eighth hour pealed from the tower of the cathedral, a 
detachment of the National Guard, on horseback, with the com- 
mandant general of the eleventh division and his brilliant staff 
at their head, began their solemn march. They were followed 
by muffled drums and the bands of the civic militia. Then 
came the corps of pompiers, the marines, the royal artillery 



CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 273 

three squadrons of the line, the artillery of the National Guard, 
and the sappers, with their respective bands. The music select- 
ed for the occasion announced that the procession was one of 
grief and general desolation. 

After these representatives of war, this military array, which 
courts the post of danger as its scene of action, but which had 
come to lay down the sword before the pall of the venerable pre- 
late, was seen the faith that combats only with prayers, the 
weakness that has no other weapons than gentle words and 
pious tears ; the children of the orphan asylum succeeded the 
military, with the cross borne before them, and followed by those 
pious women who have left the shelter and silence of the cloister 
to give the world a bright example of charity and virtue. Weep- 
ing the good and venerable father whose death we have all to 
mourn, came the sisters of La Reunion, of Lorretto, of St. Vin- 
cent de Paule, and all the other orders of charity. Then youth 
and childhood with their innocent faces, and their expression of 
lively curiosity and interest — the pupils of the religious orders, 
of the public schools, and of the royal college, with the tutors 
and professors ; the deaf and dumb, and the chorister-boys with 
their white surplices and their crimson caps. 

Then followed, in two ranks, the priests attached to the cathe- 
dral, the officers and instructors of the two ecclesiastical semi- 
naries, the almoners and vicars of all the public establishments, 
the clergy of all the parishes belonging to the diocese, the me- 
tropolitan chapter, and the bishops of Angouleme and Peri- 
gueux. These reverend personages, called from their labours 
and their duties to enclose the tomb, will not forget the good- 
ness and virtues of him whom Providence had given them for a 
model in the service of religion and benevolence. 

The insignia of his eminence were borne upon rich cushions. 
The pall-bearers were the President Roullet, the President 
Emerigon, General Desperamons, and the honourable Mayor. 
The coffin was borne upon a hearse, surrounded by sixty priests 
and deacons. The canopy, of lilac-coloured silk surmounted by 
four white plumes, was supported by scarlet columns, and be- 
neath it were the Archbishop's violet robe, the red robe of the 
Cardinal, and all the other decorations which the rank of the 
deceased required him to wear ; but gold, and silk, and purple, 



274 MEMORIALS OP 

could not emulate the splendour of that moral crown with which 
the noble head of M. de Cheverus was encircled — the crown of 
piety and virtue. 

The Abbe George, nephew of the Cardinal, accompanied by 
the Chancellor of the Royal College, followed immediately after 
the hearse. He was surrounded by other relatives of the de- 
ceased ; the deep grief impressed upon his countenance was but 
the expression of that felt by all. 

After these came the members of the Court Royale, the 
Judges, the Prefect, the Council of the Prefecture, the Munici- 
pal Council, Foreign Consuls, Professors of the Medical School, 
all the officers of the port, and all those of the customs. Some 
detachments of the line and the gend'armerie closed the pro- 
cession. The National Guard, more than 2000 in number, and 
the 58th regiment of the line, were stationed on either side of 
the route taken by the procession along its whole extent. 

The melancholy sound of the muffled drums, and the roar of 
cannon at intervals of fifteen minutes, were mingled with the 
solemn funeral chant of the priests and clergy. The march 
continued more than an hour, so numerous were the attendants, 
and all sincere mourners. 

The procession returned to the Cathedral at ten o'clock. 
The body was deposited upon a platform covered with black and 
white draperies and surrounded by a thousand lighted tapers. 
The solemn service of the mass was performed, clouds of incense 
rose to the vaulted roof, and the swelling notes of the organ 
filled the edifice with harmony. For ages the ancient Cathe- 
dral has not beheld a ceremonial of such mournful and solemn 
grandeur. 

Now the tapers are extinguished ; the chant and the organ's 
peal have ceased ; the remains of the Cardinal Archbishop Che- 
verus repose in the Chapel of the Sacred Heart. Disturb not 
the ashes of him who would have desired to sleep by the side of 
the poor, in some humble country burial-place. 



CARDINAL CHEVERTTS. 275 



BISHOP CHEVERUS. 



We copy the following notice from the Journal des Debats. 
It accords with the estimate which was formed here of the cha- 
racter and services of the excellent man who is the subject of it. 

" The loss which religion and the state has lately experienced 
in the death of M, de Cheverus, Cardinal and Archbishop of Bor- 
deaux, will be deeply felt. It is a public misfortune. M. Che- 
verus will be deplored, not only in the dioceses he has succes- 
sively governed, at Montauban, at Bordeaux, where his virtues, 
his simple and touching piety, his charity, repulsing no one, and 
his toleration, which came from the heart, has caused him to be 
adored ; he will be regretted by all France. M. Cheverus is a 
shining example of the ascendency which a religion without dis- 
play and without arrogance always exercises over men. The 
name of M. Cheverus is known throughout France, and is every 
where revered. This name seems a symbol of peace and union. 
A true and beautiful popularity which virtue merits and obtains, 
had sought out the modest and good Archbishop in his sanctuary. 
M. Cheverus had acquired without seeking it, and especially 
without exacting it as a right, an immense authority. The city 
of Bordeaux could refuse their Bishop nothing. All prejudices, 
those of a sect, and those of opinion, fell before this evangelical 
piety, and the government of the revolution of July honoured 
itself in seeking out to fill the first dignity of the church, a pre- 
late, who far from mixing in any political intrigue, had sacri- 
ficed so willingly his purely temporal dignities. It can never 
be forgotten, indeed, with what a calmness, we might say with 
what a pious satisfaction, M. Cheverus accepted the measure 
which banished him from the house of peers after the revolu- 
tion of July. The epistle, full of candour and sincerity, in which 
he congratulated himself on being restored entirely to the spirit 
of his vocation, and to the cares of his ministry, is still present 
to the recollection of every one. M. de Cheverus might, like 
another individual, have complained of persecution, and have 
passed for a victim and a martyr of the revolution ; he might 
have insinuated that religion itself was attacked in attacking 
him, and mingled with the exhortations which he gave in his 



276 MEMORIALS OF 

preaching, the right of addressing to the faithful the bitter ex- 
pressions of his resentment. M. de Cheverus rendered more 
justice to the revolution of July and to the wise and benevolent 
intentions of his government. He understood perfectly well 
that in the midst of such revolutions and political overturns, the 
greatest service which could be rendered to the clergy, was to 
withdraw it from all connexion with parties. The Archbishop 
thought he had nothing to regret. The French accepted will- 
ingly the government that France had given them. The whole 
conduct of M. Cheverus since that period has shown the sin- 
cerity of his sentiments , on all occasions he has displayed his 
respect and fidelity to the king, his submission to the principles 
of our government, and when France has had great misfortunes 
to deplore, or has returned thanks to heaven for special mercies, 
we have seen M. Cheverus join, with the outpourings of his 
heart, his prayers, to the prayers and vows of the country. His 
candour did not permit in him an equivocal submission, and he 
never could entertain the idea of making religion an instrument 
of party. 

" Of all the virtues possessed by the Archbishop, it is, un- 
doubtedly, this self-denial, this evangelical disinterestedness, 
this distance from all intrigue and every political passion, this 
candour and simplicity in obedience, which has done the most 
to gain him the hearts of all France. We have recognized in 
the conduct of M. Cheverus the true spirit of religion, the spirit 
of peace, of gentleness and sincerity, and this spirit has pro- 
duced, what it must ever produce where it is manifested, respect 
and admiration. It has made the more impression when it has 
been borne in mind what harm has been done to religion by some 
members of the clergy, by mingling in political quarrels. The 
entirely pacific conduct of M. Cheverus seemed a satisfaction 
given to the country, and a protest of religion against the faults 
of some of its ministers. The clergy owes still more perhaps 
than is supposed to the virtues of M. Cheverus. Who can say 
how much resentment and bitterness this venerated name has 
been able to calm] How many prejudices has it silenced? How 
many complaints have been answered by the name of M. Che- 
verus? Can it be believed that with all the dignities and all the 
political powers in the world, M. de Cheverus could have done 



CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 277 

for the cause of religion what he has effected by the gentle and 
irresistible influence of his piety 1 M. de Cheverus shut up in 
his sanctuary, was he not a thousand times more powerful and 
respected than he would have been, while mingling in the 
movements and the combats of party ! What privileges could 
he have gained for the clergy equal to the moral authority that 
his name gave, and will long continue to give, to the ministers 
of so holy a faith. In times like our own, power calls forth 
opposition and resistance. The example of M. Cheverus has 
shown that the clergy can aspire to a power which is acquired 
without contest, and is maintained, and increases without shocks 
and without hatred ; the power of religion and the authority of 
virtue." 



At the time of the arrival of M. Cheverus, in Boston, (says 
the Rev. Dr. Harris,) I had received into my family several very 
respectable French gentlemen, for the purpose of instructing 
them in the English language. Among them was one who had 
been a fellow-student at the college with M, Cheverus, and per- 
sonally attached to him. This led to an interchange of visits, 
and produced between him and myself a pleasant intimacy, 
which was mutually cherished while he resided in Boston, and 
kept alive by occasional epistolary correspondence after his 
return to France, 

The following is a copy of my letter to him on his leaving 
Boston: 

BISHOP CHEVERUS. 

Dorchester, Sept. 22d t 1823. 
Right Reverend and Dear Sir, 

I have just seen, in one of the public papers, a paragraph 
which announces your intended departure from this country; 
and I hasten to bid you the adieu of Christian affection. But, 
lest I should not have the opportunity of a personal interview, 
in consequence of your not being at home when I call, I have 
taken the liberty to address you in writing. 

24 



21S MEMORIALS OF 

With testimonies of respect, which I have long cherished for 
you, I am desirous of repeating to you the acknowledgments of 
my gratitude for your very obliging and kind notice of me, 
though of a different communion, and to assure you that it will 
ever be among my most pleasing remembrances that I enjoyed 
the privilege of friendly interviews with one whose piety and 
virtues exhibited the Christian character in lineaments so at- 
tractive and lovely. Nor can I ever forget that I shared a like 
gratification in the friendship of your venerated predecessor. 
And now that I am to part with both, with him % as called to his 
reward in the church triumphant in heaven — and you, as called 
hence to other services in the church militant on earth, I feel 
that a great breach is made in those social attachments and 
interviews, which contributed so much to my improvement and 
my joy. But go, my dear sir, and fulfil the high claims which 
your sacred function demands of you. Go, and bear the light of 
your knowledge, and the lustre of your example to another 
region, where their influence may be more extensive. Go, in 
obedience to the behests of a wise and gracious Providence, to 
new scenes of duty and usefulness, and spend the remainder of 
a life, (which may God render long and prosperous,) where you 
may still most acceptably edify the pious, enlighten the igno- 
rant, and administer relief and consolation to the afflicted ; and 
may blessings, from the Giver of all good, be showered abun- 
dantly upon you ! But leave behind you the benediction of your 
piety for him, who here entreats an interest in your prayers; 
favour him, too, with a recollection when at times your thoughts 
revert to your American acquaintances ; and permit him to sub- 
scribe himself, 

Most sincerely and affectionately, 
Your friend, 

THADDEUS MASON HARRIS. 



CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 279 



The following is a copy of the last letter I received from 
him: 

THE REV. THADDEUS M. HARRIS, D. D, 

Archeveche de Bordeaux. 

Bordeaux, June 3d, 1836. 
Rev. and Dear Sir, 

It is late, I confess, to answer your kind and esteemed 
favour of September 29th, 1835 ; but I wanted to get the two 
books which you desired, and I could not procure them before 
my journey to Paris, about two months since. The Rev. J. J. 
Robertson, of New York, takes charge of them, and I hope you 
will receive them. I am happy to think that they will be in 
your hands a memorial of our former amiable relations, and of 
our continued and mutual friendship and esteem. I thank you 
for having given me this opportunity of doing something for you. 
I shall be always happy to be at your disposal. 

You have probably heard, before this, of my being promoted 
to the Cardinalship ; a dignity which I neither sought nor wish- 
ed, and which is far from suiting my humble habits and opinions. 
But considerations of a very high order have obliged me to sub- 
mit to the appointment. I am confident, however, that you 
would still find me the plain and humble little Bishop of Boston. 



" yet show'd his meek and thoughtful eye, 

«« But little pride of Prelacy." 

If religion did not, experience and common sense would con- 
vince us of the vanity and emptiness of all grandeur and dig- 
nity. They have nothing real, but their cares and anxieties. 

Remember me kindly and affectionately to your family; to 
the Rev. Doctors Pierce and Gray, and all inquiring friends. 
I have not forgotten any of my American friends. 

The shameful and cruel doings at the Ursuline Convent, and 
the issue of the subsequent trial, have afflicted and astounded 
me. To this day I can hardly believe it. 



280 MEMORIALS OP CARDINAL CHEVERUS. 

I can hardly hope to see you again in this world. May wg 
meet in a better one ! 

Should any of your friends visit Bordeaux, a line from you 
will make them welcome. It is a treat to me to see an Ame- 
rican, and above all a Bostonian. He is a fellow-citizen, and a 
friend. 

With respectful and affectionate regard, I remain, 
Your friend and humble servant, 

t JOHN, CARDINAL DE CHEVERUS, 
Archbishop of Bordeaux. 



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